


A Meeting of Fates

by fairytale_bliss



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, some character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-12-13 22:24:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 93,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21005132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytale_bliss/pseuds/fairytale_bliss
Summary: Anna is a maid travelling with the Earl of Grantham and his family to Newport, visiting Lady Grantham's family. John is seeking a new life in America, away from his past sins. Sparks fly on the ship of dreams and startling revelations promise to change both of their lives for good, but when the ship hits the ice they are not guaranteed a happy end.





	1. The Winds of Change

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Originally posted between April 2012 and September 2015.

_ A Meeting of Fates _

_ 1\. The Winds of Change _

_ _

_Wednesday 10th April, 1912, 11:00_

The hustle and bustle of the Southampton port was the first thing that struck Anna Smith as she peered out of the window of the motor at the vast crowds that had gathered to see the RMS _Titanic_ set off on her maiden voyage; it seemed as though thousands of men, women, and children had flooded from the streets to be a part of the momentous occasion. Getting through the sea of people would be nigh on impossible.

“Ah, bloody hell,” Thomas grumbled from beside her, apparently drawing the same conclusion. “This is ridiculous.”

“Bet his lordship hasn’t had any problems getting to the ship,” added Sarah O’Brien, mouth twisting distastefully as the motor slowed to a crawl in order to inch its way through crowd towards the far end of the pier where the first class passengers would board the _Titanic_.

Anna remained quiet, choosing to ignore the other two servants’ complaining. If she could have chosen her own companions for the trip to Newport, Thomas and Miss O’Brien would have been last on her list. As it was, however, Miss O’Brien was Lady Grantham’s lady’s maid and Thomas was currently acting as Lord Grantham’s valet whilst a suitable replacement was found. The crossing could not have been made without them, and Anna wasn’t foolish enough to open her mouth about it. In any case, she was hopeful that she wouldn’t have to spend much time with either of them. She needed to be on hand to assist Lady Mary Crawley, his lordship’s eldest daughter, but the rest of her time was hopefully going to be her own, and she planned to use it exploring every inch of the ship that she could. This was an opportunity that would never present itself again.

At last the car came to a complete stop, and the three servants cautiously clambered out. The _Titanic_ was almost in front of them now, and Anna couldn’t help but gasp at her impressiveness. She had never seen something as wonderful as this in her whole life. Even Thomas and Miss O’Brien were quiet as they gazed upon the sight, obviously unable to think of a scathing remark. The noise pressed in around them as passengers of the ship pushed forward to board. Children darted in between bodies as they giggled in excitement, deaf to their parents’ calls. Their driver handed them their valises and tipped his hat to them.

“Have a good trip,” he told them.

Miss O’Brien’s lips twisted bitterly. “That’s not likely, not with the way her majesty will be ordering me around the whole time.”

“You exaggerate,” Anna cut in absently, still examining the sight in front of her.

“Well, I don’t know what you’ve got to be happy about. Lady Mary is as bad as her ladyship, and you’ll be run ragged this whole time. You won’t get to enjoy any of the trip.”

Anna shrugged, not seeing the point in arguing. Whatever Miss O’Brien said, she was determined to enjoy herself.

“I can see his lordship,” Thomas informed them, scanning the crowds. “Looks like they’re waiting for us.”

“Of course they would be,” Miss O’Brien grumbled, following the pair over to the family.

Lord Grantham greeted them warmly. His wife stood beside him looking equally pleased, but their daughter was silent and sullen, looking as though she’d rather be anywhere in the world but standing here waiting to board the ship. Mr. Crawley and Mr. Patrick, his lordship’s cousins, seemed a little uncomfortable standing so close to the formidable young woman. Thomas moved forward to help get the cases that the Crawleys’ driver was patiently waiting with, and soon the party was moving towards the grand boat. Anna was in awe of her, up so close. She was splendid. Gwen would surely be jealous of her tales when she returned.

The family began to make its way towards the boarding line, with the servants following dutifully behind them. Mr. Patrick offered Lady Mary his arm, but she shot him such a withering look that he dropped it at once, looking like a chastised puppy. Once on board, a member of the crew stepped forward, offering to show them to their quarters. Lord Grantham accepted graciously, handing the tickets over, and they continued further into the ship. Anna’s eyes were wide as she tried to take in all the sights she possibly could. The rich wood panels running the course of the walls. The exquisite paintings made by some breath-taking talent. The gleaming floorboards underfoot. The whole thing was gorgeous beyond words.

Soon the group arrived at the Crawleys’ quarters, and Anna immediately set about unpacking for Lady Mary, whose room was almost as beautiful as the one she had back at Downton Abbey. The young woman had followed her into the room and was currently sitting in a chair by the vanity, scowling morosely at her reflection in the mirror.

“Is something the matter, milady?” Anna asked as she finished putting the other woman’s evening gowns in the mahogany wardrobe. “You seem a little preoccupied.”

Lady Mary was silent for a few moments, before sighing. “I just don’t want to be here, is all, Anna.”

“Why not?” she took the chance in asking.

Lady Mary sighed again. “Because I know what this visit’s about. It’s about making the engagement official.”

“Milady?”

“Mama and Papa want to be able to invite Grandmama over for the wedding whilst they’re visiting her. And it just reminds me of what the future holds for me.”

Anna remained quiet, not knowing what to say. In any case, she reminded herself, it was not her place to have an opinion on such a matter. Thankfully, the conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Thomas poked his head into the room.

“Beg pardon, milady, but one of the crew members is here to escort us to our quarters, if it’s agreeable with you.”

“Yes, yes,” Lady Mary waved her hand in way of dismissal, busying herself with placing her jewellery in the pots provided on the vanity table.

Anna dipped her head. “I’ll see you later to change, milady.”

Lady Mary shook her head. “No one changes on the first night, Anna. I’ll see you before I retire for the night.”

Anna nodded again. “Very good, milady.” With that, she withdrew from the room and followed Thomas to where the steward and Miss O’Brien were waiting impatiently.

“’Bout time,” Miss O’Brien grumbled. Anna ignored her.

The group made its way through the ship to where the servants’ quarters were. The steward showed them the servants’ common room, a plain room filled with places to sit that looked agreeable enough, proceeded to the servants’ hall where their meals would be eaten every day, and then came to a rest at their destination, the bedrooms. They were small and windowless, but they were cosy nevertheless, and certainly not much worse than the lodgings that Anna was used to at Downton. They were told that they would be sharing. At once Anna’s heart sank. It wasn’t the thought of sharing. She enjoyed sharing rooms with Gwen very much at Downton, where the two of them would discuss their dreams, giggling childishly over someone who might have casually caught their eye and discussing the goings on of the day. Anna felt safe with Gwen, the way an older sister did around a younger one. But sharing a room with Miss O’Brien was something that Anna had hoped to avoid at all costs. The sour lady’s maid would surely put a damper on any high spirits that she might have had. It was bad enough that she’d have to see her every day, never mind sharing the night with her as well.

Already the older woman was wrinkling her nose as she placed her valise on one of the beds. Obviously she felt the same way about sharing with her. There were two cupboards of storage, and Anna set about putting her things away despondently.

“I’ll see you later,” Thomas said to Miss O’Brien as he was led away in search of his own cabin. She nodded briskly in reply.

Both worked in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Anna hung her working clothes neatly, then placed her best Sunday dress alongside them.

“Don’t know what you bothered bringing that for,” Miss O’Brien sniffed at her, banging one of the drawers shut.

“You won’t have the time to wear it. We’re not on holiday.”

“I don’t see why I can’t when my duties are done,” she replied lightly. “I’d like to take the time to explore in the evening, and I don’t think his lordship will mind if I do that as long as I don’t have any jobs to do for Lady Mary.”

Miss O’Brien rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother answering. Anna was thankful for that.

From somewhere above, came the sound of a horn being blown. Both women looked up at the noise. And then, suddenly, came the definite feel of movement beneath their feet. Anna grabbed at the end of her bed to keep her balance. It was a little off-putting, as though she was rocking almost unperceptively from side to side. She hoped fervently that she’d grow accustomed to the sensation before long. She wasn’t quite sure that she liked it.

But there was no denying the feeling of excitement that welled up inside her as the ship slowly began to move away from its Southampton mooring. She was heading for adventure, for the unknown, for a bit of excitement in America. It didn’t matter that the trip was only going to last a few weeks. It didn’t matter that she’d be working every one of those days, making Lady Mary look beautiful for the balls she was going to be attending on the arm of Mr. Patrick Crawley. She could feel it in her bones. Change was upon her.

_When the winds begin to blow,_ her mother had said wisely one day as they’d stood together outside their home, watching her father and brothers working in the field, _you’d best listen to them, little Anna._

She was certain that the winds of change would be blowing now if she clambered up onto the deck to watch the ship depart. And she was determined not to let them go to waste.

\-- --

John Bates gripped the handle of his cane more tightly as he slowly made his way through the crowds towards the ship that would take him away from England for good. He licked his lips nervously, feeling the sweat beading at his temple under his hat and wondered, not for the first time, if he was making the right decision by leaving the country. His mother thought that he was—and really, she was the only one whose opinion mattered to him anymore—but even that reassurance couldn’t stop the seeds of fear from sowing themselves in his mind. He knew people in England. In America, he would be truly alone.

He could almost hear his mother’s voice in his head, chiding him in that no-nonsense manner that befitted her Irish spirit: _yes, you know people here, Johnny, but they’re the wrong sort of people to be knowin’._

The ship was an absolutely beautiful sight. He had never seen anything like her in his entire life, and he had seen many wonders during his time. Many horrors, too, but he tried not to think about those too often. All around him people were cheering and waving and shrieking, clearly enjoying the excitement of the _Titanic_’s maiden voyage. Families shepherded their children towards the third class entrances, passes clutched like a lifeline in their hands. For most, they probably were.

It had been his mother’s idea to purchase the ticket for the _Titanic_. In fact, she had taken it upon herself to scrape the money together, and she had presented it to him on his last visit to her.

_“It’s time to turn your life around, John,”_ she’d said to him, and he’d known that she had been terribly, terribly serious; she only ever called him John when she wanted him to listen. _“You’ve been out of prison long enough to know that Vera isn’t gonna be comin’ back to yer. If she wanted you to find her, she’d have revealed herself by now. What you need is a fresh start away from the memories, away from the drink.”_

_“I haven’t touched a drop since I came out,”_ he’d protested, but she’d waved it away.

_“You haven’t touched a drop **yet**,”_ she’d said. _“But I know you, John. One bad day and you’ll turn back to the bottle. I don’t want that for you. I want you to be happy. And that’s why I’ve got you something.”_

She’d presented him with the ticket then, and he’d taken it. She’d filled his head with promises of better prospects in the new world, of a life free from looking over his shoulder every day expecting Vera to be there, of a place where it would be easier to cope without the drink, of a life where he’d be just one more face in the crowd, where he’d never be asked about his past and he’d never have to give any answers.

They’d both cried as they’d embraced in the hallway, neither of them wanting to admit that it would be the last time that they ever saw each other alive, but he’d gone out and fulfilled her wish by making the arrangements for this journey.

And now here he was, waiting to take that first step into a new life.

And he was terrified. Terrified of knowing that his mother wouldn’t be there to support him if everything went wrong, terrified of things not being _any_ different in America despite her faith in him.

He did his best to navigate around the boisterous children, the sound of his cane seeming to reverberate in his skull, an extension of his shame that everyone could see.

God, he could use a drink.

The thought sprang unbidden to mind, and he stopped short. Was it ever going to get any easier for him? He’d been off the drink since the start of his prison sentence, when he’d been forced to go without. He’d thought he would die without it at the time and it had taken weeks for the shakes to abate once the stuff had worked its way out of his system. He’d been careful to keep out of the pubs upon his release, but the niggling feeling that he was free to go out and have a pint constantly plagued his mind and set him on edge. In prison, he’d _had_ to go without it. Now, he was doing it by choice. But that choice could change at any moment.

The thought of drinking once again made his mind up for him.

He couldn’t be trusted in England. Perhaps his mother was right; perhaps it would be different in America. Perhaps he’d be so engrossed with making a new life for himself that he would forget all about the need to drink. And without Vera being there to tempt him off the straight and narrow path, perhaps he could finally make a respectable man of himself.

A future where no questions were asked. It sounded nice.

He clutched his valise tighter and began to limp up towards the boarding line. The steward scrutinised his ticket suspiciously as he handed it over, then jerked his head in what John assumed was admission. He garnered a lot of strange looks with his limp and his cane, but he tried to ignore them as he made his way through third class in search of his cabin. He ran across a steward as he wandered the deck, and the young man offered to show him to his quarters. Gratefully, John followed him, glancing around at the unremarkable interior of third class as he went. The young steward seemed quite chatty, and happily pointed out the main areas of interest as he went. John was grateful to hear the location of the smoking room. Having given up drink for good, he’d come to rely more heavily on his other dirty habit of smoking. His mother hadn’t been too keen on that one, either—it smelled absolutely terrible, she’d always complained—but she’d conceded that it didn’t make him lose his head, so that had to be a bonus.

The steward led him down a flight of stairs into a cold hall. Taking the ticket from him, he proceeded to the end of the corridor and rapped cheerfully on a door.

“This’d be yours,” he said. “Enjoy the trip.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you,” John replied evenly as the steward left him to it. Opening the door, he was greeted by a room that was worse than the cell he’d had in prison. Three bunkers filled the space from floor to ceiling. There seemed to be no storage space at all.

John sighed and slumped down on one of the bottom bunkers, head in his hands. If this was going to be his living space for the next week, then it was going to be a very long trip to America. Deciding that he couldn’t spend any longer in the room than he had to, he stashed his valise under the frame as best he could and exited the room again. He would go up top, remind himself of what the smoggy air of England felt like for the last time. From the way that people were madly dashing around, he discerned that they had to be leaving soon. His breath caught in his throat.

Back up on deck, he leaned against the railing and looked out at the sight before him. The crowd that had come to see the _Titanic_ off on her maiden voyage had swelled. Flags flapped. People cheered and waved at their loved ones as they waited for their journeys to America to begin. John wondered how many of them wouldn’t be returning to England. A gentle breeze blew against his face, and he turned his face upwards to gaze at the cloudy sky. It felt good against his skin, and he tugged at his collar.

Everything was going to change, he thought incoherently. He could feel it.

And then the horn blew, signalling the start of his journey into the unknown. The cries from the crowd reached a crescendo as the ship slowly began to pull away from the port. All around him people waved wildly at the friends and family that they were leaving behind. John was content to watch. He had no one to wave to. His mother was safely in London. He had promised to write to her as soon as he was settled down, but until that moment he now stood alone.

He was nervous, apprehensive, a little worried. But he was in no doubt that everything was going to change from this point onwards.

The wind told him so.


	2. A Meeting of Fates

_ 2\. A Meeting of Fates _

_Wednesday 10th April, 1912, 20:15_

Anna adjusted her hat one more time in the tiny looking glass hanging over one of the chests of drawers and finally decided that it would do. She felt nervous—her palms were sweaty in her thin black gloves—but she told herself to stop being silly. She had asked Lady Mary earlier if she had anything that she wanted to be done whilst she was dining, but the young woman had said no, that she wasn’t required to do anything until ten o’clock, when she’d be retiring for bed after an exhausting first day. So that gave Anna a couple of hours to begin her exploration of the ship. She’d decided to forego dinner in favour of giving herself more time, and it had also made her feel more at ease knowing that Miss O’Brien was in the servants’ common room and not harshly scrutinising her every move, making biting comments about how ridiculous she was being. No doubt that she and Thomas would enjoy their evening bad-mouthing her to each other, but she didn’t really care what the two disapproving servants really thought.

She’d give herself just an hour today, she decided. That would leave her plenty of time to get back to her cabin and into her uniform again before Lady Mary needed her. She was ridiculously excited about the prospect of having an evening to herself to familiarise herself with the surroundings that would serve as her home for the next week. Leaving the cabin, she began to walk in what she hoped was the general direction of the deck, smiling at the stewards who raced past her performing their duties. She felt relaxed, free, freer than she had felt in years due to the relaxation of the rigid confines that she was used to living within. If this was what the _Titanic_ was going to do for her, then she was going to enjoy the trip to America very much indeed.

\-- --

_21:45_

John sat in a corner in the smoking room, exhaling a cloud of smoke slowly, deep in thought.

He’d met up with the other men who would be sharing the cabin with him earlier. All seemed nice, all intent on making something of themselves in the new world, open with the reasons as to why they were leaving their queen and country behind. Two of them had just lost their jobs and had heard that their type of work was eagerly sought in America. Another had recently lost his wife and had decided that the only way that he would ever move on was to migrate to a drastically different place. Still two more were young and had the certainty that they would succeed in life that only the arrogance of youth could. They were all curious about him, wanting to know his story too, about how he’d attained his limp, and his reasons for leaving England behind, but he’d politely evaded answering by stating that England had nothing to offer him anymore. He didn’t want to dwell on the past any more than he had to now that he’d left it behind.

The men had asked him to join their little party, stating that they were going out to find some good whiskey, and the desire to join them had been almost insurmountable.

He’d declined. If he started drinking now, there would be no hope for him.

He’d needed a cigarette, though, and had made his way down to the smoking room a little after them, avoiding the bar and huddling in a corner of the darkened room away from the rest of the men who were cheerily tossing the ale down their throats over a game of cards. His cigarette burned like a lifeline between his fingers, the smell of the smoke soothing his soul. He stared sightlessly ahead, lost in the dancing pattern of the smoke. Even now, when they’d left Southampton hours ago, he was still having doubts about what he was doing. He knew it was the right course of action to take. He knew it would be good for him. But that couldn’t stop the worry, the misgivings. Would he ever be rid of this uncertainty that plagued his soul?

His mother was a kind woman. She’d always been strict but fair during his childhood, and had been at a loss when he’d fallen on the wrong side of life, blaming herself for his failings. His move to America was not just about him finding happiness and prosperity. So much of it was also about redemption for his mother, to finally put her mind at ease, to reassure her that she hadn’t failed him all those years ago. To John, there was no one to blame but himself for the horrible mess he had made of his life. For any mother, especially one with just the single boy, there would always be self-blame for the way that his life had turned out. If there was one thing that John wanted to achieve from his move to America it was to give his mother a reason to be proud of her only son again. He couldn’t imagine the shame that she must have endured over the past decade with his reputation as a drunkard and a thief whizzing around her close-knit community.

The taste of smoke had soured in his mouth. He stubbed out the cigarette. He could kill a drink. The whiskey would be sure to burn away the acrid taste.

He stood abruptly. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The change in his pocket tinkled enticingly. He had enough for one. Or two. Twenty. No, he shouldn’t. He _couldn’t_.

He had to get out. Fresh air was needed to clear his head, to make him see straight again.

Quickly grabbing his jacket, he pushed his chair back and headed for the exit, the casually furling smoke burning in his nostrils. Once he was outside the door he made his way towards the third class promenade, the sound of his cane marginally muffled by the noise of the other passengers around him. He could hear the sound of squealing children behind closed doors, the sound of excited laughter from the direction of the general room. John shook his head. He had no one to share his fears and hopes with. Perhaps it was better that way.

At last he made it to the deck, and he leaned against the railing with a sigh, gazing out to sea. The night was rather cold, but clear, and he tilted his head back to gaze at the stars above his head. Orion’s Belt was particularly bright. Shivering lightly, he pulled his jacket more firmly around him and fumbled in his pocket for his cigarettes again. Flaring one up quickly, he exhaled a cloud of smoke lethargically into the air, allowing it to calm his frayed nerves. It was easier out here, away from the temptation of drink.

A small part of him wondered where Vera was now, what she was doing. It was a dangerous thought, one that his mother would disapprove of. But John had known Vera for many years, had shared her bed and knew every undesirable—and indeed rather desirable—nook of her personality. He’d fallen out of love with her a long time ago, even before he’d been shipped out to Africa to fight the Boers, but until the incident with the silver which had sent him to prison, she’d still been the one constant in his life. He’d had a taste of what life was like without the drinking and the arguments and the hours spent rutting bitterly between the sheets of their bed, and he’d discovered that for all its difficulties, he liked it that way. Despite this, though, it was sometimes hard to break away from everything that he had once known.

_Vera ruined you,_ he told himself. _The last thing you need is her turning up again and derailing you. Mother said she was the wrong sort of woman, and she was right. Things will be different now. Better._

He’d never known stars as bright as these. Even the ones in Africa hadn’t shone with as much promise as the ones over the Atlantic did.

John Bates settled himself more firmly against the icy-cold railing and brought the cigarette to his lips again.

\-- --

_21:55_

_Oh God, I’m going to be late._

That was Anna’s first panicked thought as she glanced down at the little pocket watch that she had slipped inside her dress.

The second was that she was completely and utterly lost.

_How can you possibly be lost on a ship?_ she scolded herself. _It’s not like it’s the size of America!_

And it wasn’t like she had been able to wander too far. Although she had been eager to see as much as the ship as she could, she had been turned away various times from the—their words, not hers—less savoury ends of the ship by irate-looking stewards who told her that she was trying to force her way into second class. It wasn’t the place for her, they’d told her. She was a servant, therefore she had to stay in the servants’ quarters of first class.

Never one to take the rules as an absolution, Anna had not been deterred from her path. She’d already explored some of the rooms in first class earlier on in the evening, and she couldn’t help but find them rather repetitive. They were all carpeted, boasting pretty pictures and handsome mahogany furniture. They were nice. They’d certainly been interesting for a housemaid at first, who was only used to very plain and simple things and the familiarities of a life at Downton Abbey. But it wasn’t who she was. She didn’t belong here, a woman pretending to be a lady, in the dress that she’d had for too many years to admit to and the hat that had been patched up too many times because new ones were too expensive.

So, when she’d grown bored of the endlessly monotonous rooms, she’d decided to find a way to slip past the overbearing stewards to the parts of the ship that would be deemed inappropriate for her.

It had been surprisingly easy, despite the attitudes of the stewards. Anna’s mother had often sighed in exasperated affection over her daughter’s tenacity, and she’d been determined to explore as far as she could, consequences be damned. When she’d noticed the one lone, frankly quite dim-looking steward reclining boredly against the door he was supposed to be guarding, she’d seized her opportunity and made her way over to him. He had taken one look at her, swelled up like a bullfrog and blustered at the preposterousness that someone from third class had managed to sneak into first class. She’d been ushered down the stairwell into the part of the ship that she fitted in with best.

She’d barely been able to mask her grin of triumph.

And then she’d been free to explore the place where she felt most at ease. Down in third class, children shrieked and darted about the ship, too animated to take note of their parents’ half-hearted chidings. Relaxed from the iron rules that the people in first class lived by, the families were happy and pleased, all-too willing to offer her wide smiles and tips of their hats. Anna liked it down here. The relaxed atmosphere made her feel at home. She’d decided that nothing would stop her from visiting it again at some point on her journey. There were still so many places that she hadn’t visited. She hadn’t gathered up the courage to poke her head into the general room, for instance. And perhaps, if she felt brave enough, she’d buy herself a drink from the bar and mingle. There were bound to be people down here to pass the time of day with, who wouldn’t judge her. People she belonged with more than the stuck-up servants who thought themselves better than anyone else because they heralded positions that made them superior to other members of their social class.

In fact, she’d been so caught up in her victory and exploring the new territory that she hadn’t given the slightest thought as to how she would get back into first class. Not until she’d leisurely glanced at her pocket watch to realise that her free time had sped away from her like a train out of the station at London.

Which had led her to where she was now, panicking as she dashed across the third class deck in order to find some way to slip back upstairs before Lady Mary or any other member of her family noticed her absence. No doubt that Miss O’Brien’s acid tongue would be working wonders if she didn’t make it back in time. She’d managed to lose her way quite spectacularly in such a short space of time and in such a small space.

Five minutes.

She would need a miracle.

Anna dodged passed a couple who were strolling by arm-in-arm along the deck; both turned to stare in confusion as she hared across the wooden boards as though her life depended on it. It probably did. She couldn’t lose her job out here, in the middle of the ocean, of all places. Her breathing was loud and laboured in her head. Her eyes were clouding over in her effort. In her mind, she saw Miss O’Brien circling like a crow, waiting for the opportunity to stick the knife in with her ladyship. There had to be some way out of this predicament—

She was so focused on getting back to her room that she didn’t even have the time to register the next ill-placed obstacle in her path.

A harsh grunt from a solid, well-built barrier and Anna jolted to a heart-stopping halt as she pitched heavily against it, the momentum of her rattled run propelling them backward…

…She had careened straight into something decidedly human. Something decidedly _male_.

There was a clatter, and Anna gasped as a large hand splayed warmly against her side, preventing her from toppling over as the man found his footing and steadied the both of them. Heart pounding somewhere in the region of her throat, she slowly raised her eyes to the face of her heroic saviour, who had surely prevented her from sprawling her length along the deck and causing herself an injury that she’d be unable to explain to Lady Mary.

A soft face. Dark, kind eyes. Tall, powerful frame. Broad shoulders. Anna felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she quickly stumbled away from the man, apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said. “Please forgive me. I didn’t see you there—I’m afraid I was a little caught up in my own world.”

“It’s quite all right,” the man said. His voice was soft and held the tiniest hint of an Irish burr. Anna found herself shivering at the sound of it. Or perhaps she was simply cold. There _was_ a chilly wind blowing. “Is there anything the matter?”

“It’s silly, really,” she said, watching him bend down to retrieve something from the deck. Her eyes widened as she realised that it was a cane. “Oh, I’m so sorry! How terribly clumsy of me! I—”

The stranger waved it away quickly, pressing the cane heavily against his right side. “There’s no need to apologise. Really.” He smiled at her then. It made his eyes twinkle, and Anna relaxed. “Now, you were about to tell me what was wrong, Miss…?”

“Smith,” she supplied, and her heart lurched pleasantly as he extended his hand to her. “Anna Smith.”

“John Bates,” he replied. His grasp was both firm and gentle, and incredibly warm despite the cold air. “If there’s anything that I can help you with, I’d be more than happy to assist. At the risk of sounding presumptuous, you seemed to be in a bit of a hurry before.”

“Perhaps you might be able to help,” Anna said. Realising that she was still grasping his hand, she quickly let go. Mr. Bates didn’t seem to mind. “I’m actually supposed to be in first class, but I appear to be lost.”

“First class?” Mr. Bates looked surprise, though he quickly hid it behind an unreadable mask.

“What do you mean by that?” Anna teased, already feeling very comfortable in this man’s presence. He had that air about him, as though he was someone that she could entrust anything to, a man of honour and dignity and respect.

Evidently he mistook her teasing to be offence, because he reddened, tripping over his next sentence. “Nothing, of course—I was merely surprised that—”

“It’s perfectly alright,” she reassured him with a smile. “I know I don’t look as fine as the other ladies in first class. Truth is, I’m a maid, and I really should be back in first class to get my lady ready for the night. They’re a good family, but I’m not sure how pleased they’d be to know that I was late because I was cavorting in a part of the ship where I’m not allowed to be anyway.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m much of an expert on the layout of this ship yet,” Mr. Bates said, looking relieved that he hadn’t offended her. Anna’s heart sank at his statement, then quickly rose with his next words. “But I’m sure that I can help you find your way. Although you must tell me if I slow you down. I’m afraid I’m not the fit young man that I used to be.”

He indicated the cane that he was leaning on, but Anna was determined not to stare. Or to judge. “I’m certain that it won’t be a hindrance at all, Mr. Bates. And I would certainly be grateful for your help. Thank you.”

“The entrance won’t be that way,” said Mr. Bates, jerking his head in the direction of a little door not far from where they were standing. “I came from in there, so I can say with a fair amount of confidence that they won’t put the entrance to first class anywhere near the third class bar area.”

“I imagine not,” Anna agreed as they began to walk. She kept her pace slow, mindful of the oddly lumbering way that her companion walked. Silenced reigned for a moment.

“You mentioned you were a maid,” Mr. Bates said. “Is your family visiting New York? I’ve heard many exaggerated accounts of its unenviable vulgarity from the English people, but I’m sure it’s much nicer than we care to admit.”

“Oh, no,” answered Anna. “Her ladyship has family in Newport. The family are here to visit them. I daresay that we’ll visit New York for a few days before returning to England, though.”

He smiled at her. His eyes crinkled when he did that, Anna noticed. It suited him. “I myself might choose to settle there when I arrive in America.”

“Settling?” She cursed herself for sounding so startled; she wasn’t in first class now, she reminded herself. Of course Mr. Bates wouldn’t have the luxury of simply visiting America for a few weeks.

“That’s right.” He smiled again, but it was tighter this time.

“That’s very brave of you. I couldn’t imagine leaving my entire world behind to move to a different country and start again. What reasons might you have for that?”

“I have my reasons.” This time there was no mistaking the finality to his tone. He was still smiling at her, but there was an air of suspicious caution around him. The last thing that Anna wanted to do was make him feel uncomfortable. She had only been innocently curious about him, but then again, her mother had always told her that her curiosity would get her into trouble. It was best to change the subject while she still could.

“Do you suppose we’re any nearer to finding the entrance?” she asked him, internally cringing at her pathetic attempt at conversation. However, it seemed to do the trick as Mr. Bates relaxed again.

“I’d like to think that we are. There are only so many places that you can go in third class. It’s not as fancy as first class, I’m afraid. The entrance must be nearby.”

They rounded a corner as he spoke, and Anna’s heart leapt. A little door was ensconced at the end of the corridor. It had to lead to the place where she needed to be. And, thankfully, whoever was supposed to be looking after it was shirking their duty. That was certainly a bonus—she’d be able to slip through undetected.

“That must be it,” said Mr. Bates, as though he’d read her mind. He turned to grin at her again. “There we are. We make quite an investigating team.”

“We certainly do,” she agreed, smiling in return and pausing for a moment in front of the door when they reached it. Glancing around warily—the door certainly wouldn’t remain unmanned for long; the stewards were all cautious of the third class trying to invade the more savoury parts of the ship—she held out her hand again. “Thank you for taking the time to help.”

“It was a pleasure,” he replied, taking her hand. She felt her breath catch in her throat. She was sure her pulse had quickened. She wondered if he could feel it in her fingertips.

“I’d better go,” she said quickly, pulling away. She could feel her blood warming her cheeks and hoped it wasn’t too obvious—or at least hoped that he’d think that it was from the cool wind outside and nothing more. “At this rate both of us will be in trouble if we’re caught lingering around here!”

“Of course,” Mr. Bates agreed. “Take care on your way back. And you could always tell your employer the truth—that you were detained by a strange, crippled man. They needn’t know just where you were held up.”

She laughed, the sound loud in the quiet world which the two of them inhabited. And then she pushed open the door and stepped through.

“Goodnight, Mr. Bates,” she said, suddenly feeling very shy.

“Goodnight, Miss Smith,” he echoed, tipping his hat politely at her and beginning to turn away.

She watched him take a couple of those odd, awkward steps away from her, watching the way his shoulders shifted beneath his clothes, the gentle strength exuding from him despite his handicap. And suddenly she felt the inexplicable rush of desire to know more about this kind man who had taken the time to help her.

“Perhaps we’ll see each other again.” The words were out of her mouth before she realised what she’d called after him, and her eyes widened in shock at her audacity of voicing such thoughts. Mr. Bates turned back towards her, his own expression mirroring hers. For a moment she regretted opening her mouth. But then his face softened into a gentle smile.

“Perhaps we will,” he said, then continued walking away, the tap of his cane musical against the wooden decking. Anna watched his progress for a moment before shutting the door quietly behind her and mounting the stairs up onto the first class deck. She felt a little out of sorts. Disorientated. As though she’d been starved of oxygen for too long and the new rush of it filling her head was too much for her to take in in one go. Why was she feeling like this? What was it about the man that she had just met that made her feel like a flustered young girl? Anna wasn’t quite sure. It was a new sensation, a strange one.

She was certain of one thing, however: she would love to experience it again. And she would. At any cost. She didn’t need to question it. She just needed to trust it.

Tomorrow, she would seek Mr. John Bates out again.


	3. Thoughts and Plans

_ 3\. Thoughts and Plans _

_Thursday 11th April, 1912, 03:50_

Sleep was not going to come.

John realised this as he lay with his head buried in his pillow, gritting his teeth and trying desperately not to breathe. Usually it was his knee that kept him awake at night. It ached terribly, a pain that made him want to scream, that made him wish that he’d been lucky enough to lose it after the bullet had ruined it.

Any of that was preferable to the things that were keeping him awake now.

He could not get the thought of Miss Anna Smith out of his mind.

Whenever he closed his eyes he could see her smiling face behind his lids, whenever he tried to find a comfortable position in the tiny bunk he was reminded of the warmth of her hand as she’d thanked him for helping her. She had the most beautiful blue eyes, wide and innocent and full of life. Her features were delicate and—

_No,_ he stopped himself firmly. He would not go there. He would not think about that. She was simply a woman who had got lost, who he had aided, who he would never see again.

He knew that very well. But it still couldn’t stop him from dwelling on their meeting.

He had been taken completely by surprise when the young woman had barrelled into him as though hell itself was on her heels. She was only small, but the force of her impact against him had almost winded him, and he had been caught unprepared for such an encounter. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d been holding on to the railing for support, he would have ended up on his back on the deck for certain. John could only imagine how embarrassing that would have been. When he’d taken his first glance at her, he had expected to see someone—anyone—else. Perhaps a young boy who had got a little too exuberant in his play. Or a young man chasing after an errant child.

Certainly not Anna Smith.

She’d been polite and contrite and—dare he think it?—rather endearing. He had greeted her cordially, and waited for her inquisitive enquiries when he’d observed that she’d noticed that he used a cane. In his life, he had grown used to fake sympathy and irritating curiosity when it came to the deficiency in his gait. He’d perfected a mask of polite indifference to rebuff the queries of details that he did not wish to give. So when Anna Smith had realised that he was a cripple, he had braced himself for the inevitable.

And had been completely and utterly and pleasantly surprised when she had not made any comment about his injury after her initial realisation. She had simply carried on with her original conversation as though nothing was out of the ordinary. When they’d walked together she hadn’t faltered, as though she’d been walking by his side for years.

It was as disconcerting as it was refreshing.

John had not been expecting her to call out after him, either, when he’d helped her to find her way back to first class. He had expected a polite thank you and nothing more. Certainly not a hint that they might meet again.

It would not do to think about that.

He’d felt suddenly and inexplicably cold when she had shut the door quietly behind her and left him standing in the darkness alone. There had been no reason to, of course, and John had wrestled with confusion at the unexplainable feelings. Why should he feel so affected by a woman that he didn’t even know? It was ridiculous. He’d smoked a couple more cigarettes to calm his nerves—though he told himself firmly that they weren’t because of her—then decided to call it a night, his limbs heavy from the day’s events. Stumbling through the door to his little cabin he’d found his roommates already fast asleep and snoring, the stench of ale hanging heavily in the air.

He’d been lying awake ever since, burying his face into his pillow to attempt to assuage the desire that came with the smell of the ale, the temptation to sneak out and find respite in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. The sweet echo of Miss Smith’s voice reverberated in his head like a mantra, driving him mad.

_Perhaps we’ll meet again._

The men in the other beds snored on, oblivious to the fact that John Bates’ world had just been turned upside down for the fourth time in his life.

He wasn’t sure if anything could ever be the same now that he had met Anna Smith, the maid with a smile that had sent the world reeling.

\-- --

_04:15_

Miss O’Brien was snoring lightly from the bed across from her. It was irksome and keeping her from sleeping.

_Keep telling yourself that, Anna._

Anna rolled onto her back and let out a long sigh, throwing her arms up above her head. Why was it so difficult to get the thought of Mr. John Bates out of her head? There had been absolutely nothing remarkable about him. He was not devastatingly handsome. He was not young and capable. He had to be almost twenty years her senior. And yet there was something about him, something charismatic. His eyes had twinkled when he’d smiled and joked. He’d been cordial and polite and hadn’t looked at her as though she was a piece of meat that needed to be devoured—a refreshing change from the usual leers that men sent her way. He hadn’t made her feel uncomfortable. And there had been something sad about him, something tragic; it was in the way that he held himself, in the way that he had to walk with the aid of a cane. The truth was undeniable: she wanted to know more about him. Why, she wasn’t sure. But he had helped to save her from the family’s certain disappointment, and she would be eternally grateful for that.

She had made it back to her cabin flushed and shaking, and had hastily slipped into her uniform before rushing towards Lady Mary’s quarters. She’d been ten minutes late—a miracle considering that without John Bates’ help she would have still been in the third class part of the ship, frantically attempting to find her way back to first. Lady Mary had raised an eyebrow in question as she’d burst into the room, flustered and pink-faced, but she’d forgone asking about what was wrong with her in favour of complaining about the stuffy people that she had met at dinner. For this, Anna was extremely grateful. Her own mind had been completely occupied by the encounter that she had just been a part of. She’d managed to make non-committal noises in all of the right places as she’d dressed Lady Mary for bed, before escaping back to her own room. Luckily, Miss O’Brien had still been preoccupied with Lady Grantham, so Anna had taken it as an opportunity to quickly ready herself for bed to avoid any snide comments from the lady’s maid. She’d been snuggled up in the warm bed sheets when Miss O’Brien had eventually reappeared and, feigning sleep, had been left alone with only a couple of muttered curses under the lady’s maid’s breath.

But now, hours later, she still hadn’t slept a wink.

_This is ridiculous,_ she told herself. Losing sleep over a man she’d barely spent five minutes with was beyond stupid. She was acting like a simple girl smitten by a boy for the first time, not a young woman who was practical and level-headed.

Even so, she had meant what she’d thought earlier. She wanted to see him again.

But what reason could she give for orchestrating another meeting between the two of them? She couldn’t very well just go down there again without some purpose. And, in any case, it was arguable that she might never find him again down there. There were plenty of people who were setting sail for a new life in America down in third class. John Bates could easily be lost in the crowd.

And yet she knew that she had to try. Her mother had always complained that her tenacity was as irritating as it was admirable, and it was true: once she had her mind fixated on something, she would always follow it through, no matter the cost.

_You make Mr. Bates sound like a project,_ she chided herself. _He likely doesn’t want to hear from you again. Don’t make things worse._

But _how_ could she make it worse, a second voice, a more daring part of her, asked. Mr. Bates didn’t seem to be the sort of person who would brush her off if they were to meet again.

_That’s only because he’s too polite to._

Out loud, Anna twisted onto her stomach and groaned into her pillow. This was getting absurd. Why should she be arguing with herself over a man like John Bates? Gwen would likely think her mad if this ever got back to her.

_Will it, though? Or would you like to keep Mr. Bates as your own little secret?_

She told the voice in her head to shut up and then rolled onto her side, staring sightlessly out into her little room. None of this mattered, anyway. It was pointless to argue with herself over such a thing. The facts before her, as she’d thought before, were stark: there was a high chance that she’d never be able to get back into third class—it had only happened this time because of sheer dumb luck—and even if she did, what excuse could she offer for seeking him out? That she was intrigued by him? That she just wanted to spend time with him? That he did something to her insides that no man had ever done before? They were all completely ludicrous excuses, and ones that could never be repeated outside her head. She had no plausible motive for seeing Mr. Bates again.

But then she sat up quickly, her heart beating fast, her palms suddenly sweaty. There was a way. But it was insane. Mad. Unthinkable.

Could she ever do it?

Aware of the need to be quiet, Anna slipped out of bed and padded across the room to where her little storage cupboard was. Dropping to her knees beside it, she squinted in the darkness and rummaged in her things, waiting to feel the tell-tale softness of her mother’s old lucky charm. At last her fingers closed around it, buried in a pile of her undergarments, and she pulled it out, retreating to her bed before Miss O’Brien could awaken and accuse her of being sentimental. Because this wasn’t about being sentimental.

At least, not entirely.

Huddled beneath the covers again, Anna traced her fingers down the charm’s elegant stitching. It was small, in the shape of a bear. Her mother had brought it out of her room for her years ago, when she’d first moved away into Lord Grantham’s service. Her mother had told her that it would keep her safe and protect her, that she had to keep it with her at all times and that, in future, when she was married and had children of her own, she had to pass it on and let the tradition continue. It had always brought the women of her family good luck, she’d stated. She wanted that to continue. Now that Anna had reached the age of twenty-six without even the slightest mention of a courtship, however, it seemed that that would never come to pass. Her parents were dead and would never see her settle down and marry. She herself doubted that it would ever come to pass. Her goal was to enhance her skills in the hope that one day she might take over from Mrs. Hughes, Downton’s housekeeper. It would take a very special man to derail her from that notion, so the little bear was destined to stay with her. She didn’t mind. It was one of the only things she had left of her mother.

Yet perhaps…perhaps she _could_ pass it on. Perhaps she could pass it on to Mr. Bates as a sign of thanks for helping her out yesterday. It would destroy her to be parted from the charm. She had had it for so long now that it would feel as though a piece of her was missing if it was gone, a link to her mum lost. But it would be for a good cause. It would give her justification to seek him out again, to talk with him, to get to know him better.

That made her mind up for her. Her mother had always said that she was too stubborn for her own good.

Later on tonight, when she was free for a couple of hours while Lady Mary dined, she would find a way back down into third class. She would offer the charm to Mr. Bates.

And she would get to know him better.

\-- --

_06:15_

The other men in John’s room were still sleeping soundly, but John had barely slept a wink. His mind was too consumed, whirring away like a steam engine at full speed. His bad knee had complained all night, as though it was competing with Anna Smith for attention, and now he pushed himself up, shuffling himself up onto the edge of his tiny bunk, running a hand wearily through his mussed tresses. There was no point in trying to sleep now. He had never been a good sleeper, and especially not since his return from Africa, and soon enough the other men in the room would be rousing to start another joyous and hope-filled day.

Moving quietly so that he wouldn’t disturb the other men who were slumbering peacefully, John carefully grabbed at his clothes and sat himself down again to get dressed. He might as well start the day early. There would be breakfast going soon, and he could always make his way up onto the deck so that he could watch the sun rise. He had done it often enough after his return from Africa, before his terrible stint in prison. Grabbing his cane from the end of his bed, he gritted his teeth and refrained from using it until he was out in the corridor, where the echo of the tapping would hopefully not disturb anyone.

He sighed in relief as he emerged onto the deck. A few people had filtered out here, obviously early risers like him, but for the most part the deck was empty, and John was able to find a little bench with ease, settling down onto it with a sigh and stretching his leg out in front of him in order to accommodate the screaming muscles. The horizon was just beginning to turn a becoming pink, like a lady’s blush. John felt the corners of his mouth tugging upwards slightly—the closest he got to a smile nowadays—and tipped his head back, feeling in his pocket for a cigarette. He pulled it out and lit it, inhaling and then exhaling a large cloud of smoke into the early dawn. A chilly wind whipped around him, but he was undeterred by it. He simply sat there in silence, smoking his cigarette, watching the sun rise. It was an absolutely breath-taking sight, unrivalled in its beauty.

Well, almost.

In the furthest corner of John Bates’ mind, there was the shadowy and idle thought that Anna Smith’s smile had been even more beautiful.

He wouldn’t acknowledge it.

\-- --

_13:30_

Anna sighed, pushing despondently at the food on her plate, her appetite non-existent. There was no way that she would be able to stomach it without being violently sick. It wasn’t as though she was ill—the slight feeling of sea-sickness that she had initially experienced had passed quickly once she’d acclimatised to the sensation of constant movement beneath her feet—but she still couldn’t stomach the thought of putting one morsel into her mouth.

She was far too nervous and apprehensive for that.

There were so many things that could go wrong with what she was planning to do. For one, she might not even be able to spare the time to slip below decks. Lady Mary might require extra duties from her; she had overheard her ladyship and Lady Mary in a heated argument just before she’d dressed her for luncheon, something about ensuring that she was noticed. Anna knew immediately what this would mean for her: more work.

Still, she shouldn’t complain. She’d be a fool if she didn’t think that the position she held was a wonderful one. There were plenty of other houses out there that did not boast the kindness and generosity that the Crawleys bestowed on their staff.

_Even so,_ a small, treacherous voice in her head complained, _if you don’t go back down there tonight, you’ll lose your nerve and never see Mr. Bates again._

There it was again, that niggling desire. Her fascination with the injured man was beginning to scare her. No one should be so transfixed on someone after just one meeting.

She shook the thought off quickly. It did not do to dwell on such things.

At that moment, her musings were interrupted by a sour voice. “Anna.”

It could only be one person.

She turned in her seat to find Miss O’Brien standing behind her, her face its usual dark scowl. She was holding a half-eaten sandwich in one hand. Evidently her ladyship had kept her busy all morning, and she had not had time to come and eat her own lunch.

“What is it?” Anna asked, doing her best to stifle a yawn. She wished that she’d managed to grab a few more hours’ sleep. She was finding it difficult to face the day like this.

“Lady Mary is back from luncheon early. She wants to change so that she and Mr. Patrick can take a turn around the ship.”

Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn’t Lady Mary’s fault that she’d been brought up to conform so rigidly to the expectations of society, but it was irritating when it meant changing her _again_ just for a walk around those stuffy rooms and the pristine deck.

Nevertheless, she rose dutifully from her seat. “I’m on my way now.” It wasn’t as if she was interested in finishing her meal, anyway. Her appetite had long since abandoned her.

In any case, the extra work might take her mind of what she was going to do that evening.

At least, she hoped that it would.

\-- --

_17:30_

John tried to smile as he listened to Samuel, the man who had lost his wife, tell the group about his plans for when he set foot in America. Something about seeking out a property and using his remaining money to set up a shop. He tried to nod, to look interested, but he was distracted. He tried not to stare at the amber liquid in the glasses that were on the table top in front of him. His hands shook underneath the table. He’d only been sitting here for a couple of hours but he’d already smoked half a dozen cigarettes. The taste of the tobacco was doing little to abate his yearning for a drink. If he continued on at this rate then he would be out of cigarettes before they were even halfway through the journey. Still, he needed to keep within the circle of those sharing the little cabin. He did not want to become a total outcast.

“Fancy another round, boys?” George, the youngest member of the little party, was already beginning to sound a

little slurred. Clearly he wasn’t man enough to handle his drink yet. John wished he could show him how to really do it. But he couldn’t. The tiniest taste of a drink would send him on the downward spiral.

“You having one this time, John?” Harry’s eyes were curious as they regarded him. The rest of the men turned their gazes on him as soon as the words were uttered.

A hot, prickling sensation burned the back of his head. “I’m not thirsty just now.”

_Oh, you liar, John Bates._ He was more than thirsty. Right now he’d do almost anything for a drink.

Harry shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “Same again, lads?”

There was a chorus of cheers, and Harry grinned good-naturedly.

“Actually,” John said as he disappeared into the crowd of rowdy men, “I think I’ll just step outside for a few minutes.”

“Come on, live a little, Johnny! You sound as if you’re a member of that ruddy temperance league!”

George sounded exactly like Vera had done. Slightly drunk, slightly mocking, slightly malevolent. A terrible combination. It was enough to propel him to his feet, grasping his cane in sweaty palms. He was sure that he looked a little mad, and couldn’t bring himself to care. He just had to get out of this torturous hell. He had tried to be strong, and he was failing. If he didn’t get out now then he wouldn’t have a hope of lasting much longer without a drink passing between his lips. A drink would turn into ten. Ten would turn into however many it took to make him pass out. And then the cycle would start again. And again. And again. An endless phase, with no getting out of it this time.

No, he couldn’t do it. He had promised his mother on his honour. And his honour and his mother’s pride were the only things he had left that were worth something to him.

So he forced a smile onto his face. “Perhaps I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He left the table then, gripping his cane so tightly that he could feel it marking his skin, his teeth clenched in a way that made his jaw feel tighter than a drum.

Fresh air. Fresh air was what he needed. Just enough of it to clear his head of the drink fumes that had begun to rot there. Just enough to give the illusion that he was winning his war.

\-- --

_20:00_

“Is there anything else you need, milady?” Anna asked as she gathered her things together. Internally, her stomach was rolling so fast that she thought she might be sick.

Lady Mary regarded herself critically in the mirror for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I have everything I need. Thank you, Anna. I’ll see you later.”

“Certainly, milady,” Anna bobbed her head graciously before backing out of the room. The last thing she wanted was for Lady Mary to call her back for something that she’d forgotten. She was already completely and utterly nervous about what she was about to do. If she put it off any longer, then she knew that she would lose her nerve completely.

Making it back to her own room was easy enough. Miss O’Brien was once again absent, and Anna thanked her ladyship for that one. Sometimes she supposed that it was incredibly selfish of Lady Grantham to take so long getting ready, but if it could somehow be played to Anna’s own advantage, like it could be tonight, then she couldn’t say she minded. Plus it was hard to sympathise with a woman who made it known every day, in a tiring, persistent manner, that she couldn’t stand being in service as it was.

Throwing her cap and apron into the little cupboard that held her clothes so that Miss O’Brien wouldn’t notice them if she came back, Anna pulled out her best Sunday dress again and wriggled into it as quickly as she could, cursing herself when her trembling fingers managed to fumble the ties on her corset. Forcing herself to move with deliberate slowness, Anna untied them and did them again, using the time that it took to do this to gather herself under control. She pulled out the two hats that she’d brought with her and deliberated agonisingly over them, eventually choosing the pretty black one which had cost her most of her month’s wages a couple of months before they’d begun this trip to America. She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen that one, but she found that it _did_ make her pale cheeks and blue eyes stand out.

_And why would a thing like that matter?_

She chose to ignore that thought in favour of pulling on her gloves.

She was ready to leave five minutes later, and she dropped the charm into her pocket, heart thumping fast. Pausing one last time to eye herself critically in the little looking glass, she adjusted her hat and stepped out into the corridor. A couple of maids were rushing past her as they went about their work. They gave Anna sour looks as they dashed by, but Anna couldn’t bring herself to care. It wasn’t her fault that their masters and mistresses worked them harder than the Crawleys did.

She slipped passed the servants’ room with relative ease, pausing for a second to peer inside to see if she could spot Miss O’Brien in the crowd. After a moment she did and, for a heart-stopping moment, she thought that the lady’s maid looked up and saw her standing there in her best Sunday dress again. But the room was thick with cigarette smoke, and Anna couldn’t be sure if she’d imagined it or not. Still, she wasn’t about to take any chances, and backed away quickly, hurrying as far away from the hall as possible.

When she was far away enough, she slowed down. She had to think about this rationally. It was going to be difficult to sneak back down into third class. She was lucky to have done it once. But there would be a chance. She knew there would.

With that in mind, she made her way to the place where she had come out the night before, settling herself onto a bench to wait. She’d brought a book along with her, and pretended to be engrossed in it as she waited for her chance to slip by the steward on the door. She’d been there twenty minutes before God graced her with an opportunity.

There was the sound of shouting and wailing from just around the corner. A child’s cry. And then the child came into sight, his face red and puffy with tears. He looked disorientated and fearful. The steward was upon him at once, crouching down in front of him.

“What’s the matter, sir?” he asked the boy.

“I’ve lost my mama!” the boy wailed hysterically. “She’s gone and left me!”

“I’m sure she can’t be far,” the steward comforted him. “And I’m sure she’s very worried about you. Why don’t we go and find her together? She can’t be far away.”

At the man’s words, the boy calmed a little. Sniffing twice, he nodded his head and extended a little hand towards him. The steward took it, before standing up. Together, the two rounded the corner in search of the boy’s missing parents.

Anna was on her feet before they’d disappeared from sight, stuffing the book into her little bag. Before she could talk herself into changing her mind, she hurried across the deck and threw the door open. Once on the stairs inside, she pulled the door closed behind her. No one would know what she was up to.

She took a moment or two to compose herself, then started down the stairs. She’d have to tread carefully now in case she was discovered. John Bates was down there somewhere, and she needed to see him.

_And what if you don’t find him? There are hundreds of people in third class. It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack._

She dismissed the thought quickly. There was a feeling deep in her bones that it wouldn’t come to that. She couldn’t say where this intuition was coming from, but she trusted it implicitly.

Taking a deep breath, Anna continued forward.

\-- --

_20:30_

With a sigh of relief, Anna stepped into the third class general room. It had taken enough time to reach this place, but she thought it was the best place to start. If she looked here and found him, then it would save her the pain of walking around on the deck looking for him. It wasn’t unfeasible that he’d be enjoying a drink at this time, perhaps before he went for his dinner.

The stink of smoke and ale hit her as soon as she stepped into the room, and she wrinkled her nose against it. It was a man’s smell and, coupled with the stale stench of sweat, it really was quite pungent. Still, she persevered with it, moving deeper into the room. There was laughter, bawdy and loud, as she made her way through, glancing this way and that for the almost-familiar silhouette of Mr. Bates, squinting through the film of smoke. Some men offered her appreciative looks and leering grins—no doubt it was rare for a woman to walk in a place which was deemed as theirs. Others were more disapproving, clearly not comfortable with a woman in their presence. Anna tried to ignore them all, her heart leaping as she thought she saw the man she was looking for, only for it to fall disappointedly when she realised that the man she’d mistaken for Mr. Bates was nothing like him after all. Reaching the bar, she sighed and decided to order herself a drink. She couldn’t very well just wander aimlessly between all these men without having anything to do.

“I’ll have a cider, please,” she said to the barman.

He raised his eyebrow cautiously. Clearly he was a better man than most of the ones frequenting here. “You sure, love? You don’ look like you’re with anyone here—not sure if it’s the best thing for you to be around these men when they’ve had a few—”

“Oi, fill ’em up, man!” came a bawdy and decidedly drunk voice from behind her. Anna cringed and turned around to see a young man of no more than about twenty stagger up to the bar. He slammed his glass down for emphasis, then did a double-take, as though he’d never seen a woman before.

“Well, what do we ’ave ’ere?” he slurred, his accent much stronger because of the beer he’d consumed. Anna cringed at the smell of his breath. “Make it a double! I’ll buy one for the pre’y lady ’ere!”

“Oh, there’s no need to do that,” Anna said at once.

“I insis’! Can’ ’ave a woman such as yer fine self buyin’ ’er own drink, now, can we? C’mon, come wi’ me. I’ll show yer ’round this place.”

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” she said, beginning to feel irritated rather than intimidated by the man’s incessant badgering. “I’m actually looking for someone, so I’d better not come with you.”

“Yer missin’ out, lass! I can show yer a be’er time than whoever yer meetin’!”

She bristled at being referred to as a lass when she was clearly older than he was. “You’re nothing more than a boy. And you’re drunk. I’m sure you’re a perfect gentleman most of the time, but I don’t take kindly to being prepositioned in the middle of a crowded bar.”

Somewhere in the background, the barman snorted his appreciation. She ignored him.

The young man blinked stupidly at her. “Well, who are yer meetin’ tha’ can be so mich be’er than me?”

Anna sighed in exasperation. He really did not understand it. “I’m looking for a friend.”

“Lookin’ fer ’im? ’As ’e stood yer up? ’S’no’ very gen’lemanly o’ ’im.”

Why was she still having this conversation? “It’s a surprise. He doesn’t know I’m here yet. That’s why I’m trying to find him.”

“Wha’s ’is name? Maybe I can be o’ assistance.”

The likeliness of this man knowing John Bates was almost laughable, but Anna was feeling desperate enough to ask. If he didn’t know of him…well, no harm was done. She could continue on as she was, hoping that she’d stumble across him. And, if by some sort of miracle, he did know of him, then it would save her a lot of trouble.

“His name is John Bates,” she said. “I met him yesterday.”

For a moment, the man simply stood there blinking at her with red eyes. And then they widened comically. “John Bates!? John Bates!?”

Anna’s heart began to speed up in her chest. “What, you know who he is?”

“Tall bloke? Crippled?”

Anna winced at the word—such an ugly description!—but nevertheless nodded eagerly. “Yes, that’s right! Do you know where I might find him?”

“Sure do!” hiccupped the man. “In fact, ’e’s sittin’ right over there on tha’ table wi’ me!”

Anna followed his shaking finger as he pointed her in the right direction. Her heart almost stopped beating in her chest when she realised—good God, surely a miracle!—that John Bates was indeed sitting at the table, looking rather uncomfortable and out of place, surrounded by several other drunk looking men.

“Reckon I should get a reward for bein’ so ’elpful,” said the man, but she ignored him, beginning to move towards the table where John Bates was seated. Her legs were trembling as she walked.

_It’s not too late to back out,_ she thought. _You can be out of here before he realises anything. He hasn’t seen you yet._

But her legs, despite their shaking, ignored her and continued to push her forwards. Snatches of their conversation began to float towards her, and the smell of beer was almost overwhelming now. She could hear the young man stumbling behind her, trailing her like a puppy.

John Bates was not the first person to notice her; instead, one of the other drunken men rounded on them.

“Well, look ’ere!” he slurred leeringly. “Look what old George has brought us back! I been missin’ a woman’s touch over these last few years. Good on yer, George. Yer deserve another pint for this little beauty!”

At his words, John Bates finally looked up. For a suspended second, they simply stared at each other. And then John Bates’ eyes were widening, and he stumbled to his feet so quickly that he almost knocked the table over. He didn’t seem drunk in the slightest; in fact, he seemed completely alert and in control of his senses.

There was complete silence for a moment, as the men took in the scene before them. Anna didn’t notice anything beyond Mr. Bates; they simply stared at each other.

“Hello, Mr. Bates,” Anna said.


	4. As Natural as the Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just wanted to add a quick note for peasemealBrose--I don't like replying to comments because I don't want to skewer the true comment count, but I just wanted to say thank you very much for all of your lovely comments. They've truly made my days. If you have any social media where I can send a message to thank you properly, let me know. :)

_ 4\. As Natural as the Tide _

_Thursday 11th April, 1912, 20:40_

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Miss Anna Smith could not be standing in front of him, surrounded by a table of drunkards. He leapt to his feet, almost sending the table flying as he reached for his cane, eyes wide and confused. It just couldn’t be real.

“Hello, Mr. Bates.”

Somehow, it was.

\-- --

“Miss Smith? What on earth are you doing here?”

She was about to reply when the man she’d been at the bar with—George, so it seemed—caught her up, attempting to explain the situation to the others while also trying to put his hands on her. “Apparently, this is ol’ Bates’ woman!”

This was met with a chorus of catcalls and laughter, and Mr. Bates flushed a deep crimson.

“Where you been hidin’ her?” one of the other men demanded to know as he looked her up and down appreciatively. “You certainly don’t waste long, do ya, Bates?”

“She’s not my woman!” Mr. Bates snapped. “And have some respect. She’s a lady. Don’t insinuate such vulgar things.”

Anna’s heart sank a little at the beginning of his vehement statement, and it scared her. Of course she wasn’t his woman. She’d barely spent twenty minutes with him. She didn’t know anything about him. And he certainly wasn’t the sort of person who would normally turn her head. She decided that she was more annoyed at being addressed as though she was simply an object, or a woman with no morals. At least Mr. Bates was being kind and defending her.

He turned his gaze on her then, looking worried. “I apologise, Miss Smith. This behaviour is unacceptable.”

“It’s fine,” she said, twisting her hands together. “Honestly, Mr. Bates.”

“So what are ya doin’ ’ere?” one of the others asked with a lecherous smile. “Why d’ya wanna see ol’ Bates? ’E never mentioned ya before!”

Mr. Bates shot him an irritated glare. “I wasn’t aware that I had to share every detail of myself with you.”

“Well, I woulda thought that you’d wanna mention a friend like this! She coulda joined us earlier!” George piped up.

“Friend?” Mr. Bates sounded surprised.

“’Course, she said so ’erself.”

Anna felt herself blushing as Mr. Bates’ gaze found hers, sharp and speculative. She opened her mouth to explain herself, but their attention was diverted by the lone blond man banging his glass on the table.

“Well, pull up a chair, lass,” he said. “Plenty of room for another one, especially someone as lovely as you!”

She thought she saw a flicker of fire in Mr. Bates’ eyes as he turned to regard him. “Miss Smith won’t be drawing up a chair.”

“C’mon, Bates! Lighten up! It’s just a bit o’ fun! Why don’ we see what the lady wants, eh?”

All eyes were on her then. She felt as if she was burning with embarrassment and shame. She should never have done this. “Actually, I just wanted a quick word with Mr. Bates.”

The blond one reclined back in his seat, waving his arm as though he was being generous. “Well, anythin’ y’ve got t’ say t’ Bates, you can say in fronta us.”

She frowned. “No, actually, I’d like a _private_ word with Mr. Bates.”

There was a series of catcalls and raucous jeering at that.

“Y’hear that, Bates? She wants a _private_ word!”

Mr. Bates’ expression was cold and unforgiving. For a moment, Anna was taken aback by it. She didn’t know him well at all, but she had never thought in a million years that such an expression could cross his face. And yet, when he turned back to regard her, his face was soft and apologetic.

“Let’s take a turn around the deck,” he told her. “We’ll be able to speak more freely there.”

“You sure you’re not takin’ ‘er fer a turn in yer bed sheets, Bates?” one of the men called crudely after them. Anna felt Mr. Bates stiffen beside her, but he didn’t respond as he continued to lead her away. Anna could feel the eyes of the whole bar watching them depart together. She could feel herself flushing hot with humiliation, and hoped that people wouldn’t take that as a guilty sign. Mr. Bates was clenching his jaw.

Once they were on the stairs which would lead them to fresh air, he halted them at once, looking agonised. “Miss Smith, I’m mortified that you had to listen to such appalling comments. I can assure you that I would never even dream of—”

“I know,” she was quick to reassure him. “Honestly, Mr. Bates, it’s fine.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. You shouldn’t have to hear those sorts of comments. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said gently. “They’re all drunk. I’ll take not the slightest bit of notice of them.”

He smiled then, looking relieved. She noticed again that his eyes crinkled. It really did suit him. But then he sobered almost as quickly, peering cautiously down at her.

“But why are you here, Miss Smith? I don’t understand.”

They’d emerged onto the third class deck, and Anna led him towards the railings so that they could look over at the sea, smooth as glass—anything to stall for a few more seconds. She was beginning to remember just why she had made her way down to third class in the first place, and the reason for it was starting to sound more and more stupid with every second that passed. Just what would Mr. Bates think of her…?

“Miss Smith?”

She turned to find his gaze on her, warm and concerned. His eyes were a lovely shade of brown, she noticed distractedly, like warm chocolate. She twisted her hands together in agitation.

“Anna, please,” she said, managing a smile. “I’ve never been Miss Smith in my life. It’s making me feel rather nervous!”

“Then if I’m to call you Anna, you really should start calling me John. It would be terribly unfair if you didn’t.”

“I don’t know,” she teased him gently, “Mr. Bates suits you rather a lot.”

He smiled at her again, then grew more solemn once more. “So, Anna, what do you need to speak to me about?”

She shifted from foot to foot, feeling out-of-place. “Oh, you’ll probably think I’m being terribly silly.”

“Never,” he reassured her quickly. He said it with such firmness, as if there was no one more intriguing than her. It made her stomach flutter in a manner that she couldn’t describe.

Anna took a deep breath. She could delay no longer. “Well, I just thought that I’d come down here to thank you again for what you did for me last night. You really saved me. Thanks to you, I was only a little late, and my lady never questioned me about it, which was a blessed relief.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I told you yesterday, it was absolutely no trouble whatsoever. You really needn’t have risked getting into trouble just to tell me that again. Honestly, I knew you appreciated it, and that was nice.”

Her heart sank a little in her chest. So, he hadn’t been expecting to hear from her again after all. Perhaps, like she’d feared, he hadn’t wanted to hear from her ever again.

“Oh, well,” she stammered, “I just wanted to give something to you. As a token of my appreciation.”

The silence stretched on as Mr. Bates digested her words. Anna chewed her lip as she regarded him earnestly.

“You needn’t do anything like that,” he said at last. “Truly, Miss Smith—”

“—Anna—”

“—Anna, my apologies. But truly, I would hate for you to think that you owed me something when I was simply doing what any decent person would have done.”

“Even so,” she said, and hated the fact that her voice was unsteady. “I would still like to give it to you.”

And then she withdrew it, feeling more foolish than ever. What if he thought she was childish and ridiculous? She would feel awful if he thought that of her.

He furrowed his brow upon seeing it, and she hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell that her hand was trembling.

“What is it?” he asked tentatively.

She could feel a hot, prickly sensation at her skull. “It’s a bear. My lucky charm, to be more precise. My mum gave it to me a long time ago. And I would very much like for you to have it.”

“I can’t accept this,” he said at once.

“What? Why?”

“Because of what it is,” he said. “You said that your mother gave it to you many years ago. I cannot possibly accept such a thing. I’m very flattered that you offered it to me, but you really needn’t have. I helped you get back into first class so that you wouldn’t get in trouble. That isn’t a deed worthy of such a precious gift.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t like it?” She hated how pathetic she sounded.

“Not at all!” he hastened to explain. “Miss Smith, it’s a wonderful gesture. Truly, one of the loveliest things that anyone has ever offered to me in my whole life. But I know how much it must mean to you. And I cannot possibly accept it. It wouldn’t be right.”

“I honestly want you to have it,” she said. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

“But even so,” he argued. “It holds a lot of sentimentality. I cannot possibly take it from you.”

“Please,” she repeated. He paused.

“I have an idea,” he said finally.

“Oh?” Anna’s brow crinkled in confusion. “What’s that?”

“How about we compromise?”

“Compromise?”

“Yes. Since neither of appear to want to back down, I thought we could reach a mutual agreement.”

Despite herself, she had to smile at that. “Then please do tell.”

“Well,” he said, beginning to grin a little himself, “I could keep the charm for the duration of this trip. And then, just before we reach America, I could give it back to you. Think of it as a sort of loan.”

She considered this for a moment. Could she do that? She had told herself that she would give the charm to Mr. Bates but, at the same time, she rather liked the idea of getting it back. It was very special to her, after all.

Mr. Bates was still staring at her. “Well? Do you find that acceptable?” His voice held just the tiniest hint of a teasing tone. She rather liked the sound of it.

“Very well,” she said solemnly, though her eyes were twinkling. “I think that that’s an agreement we can settle upon.”

“Excellent,” he replied, his smile widening. This time he took the charm when she offered it to him, slipping it carefully into a pocket inside his waistcoat.

“We should shake on it,” Anna said suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Well, isn’t shaking hands the proper way to seal a deal?” she teased. “I may be a woman who knows nothing about business, Mr. Bates, but I do know that!”

A grin of his own spread across his face at her words. “Perhaps you’re right,” he agreed. Hooking his cane expertly over his left wrist, he offered his hand to her. She took it without a moment’s hesitation.

The feel of his hand was the same as it had been yesterday. Anna had to supress a shiver at it. Without his gloves, she could just begin to feel the cold from his fingers seeping into her own gloved ones. His grip was still firm and confident. There was hidden strength in that hand, she could feel it. It was rather exciting. For a moment, she briefly wondered what it would be like to touch his fingers directly, without any layers separating them.

She swiftly shook those thoughts away, jerking her hand from his grasp. Mr. Bates looked moderately surprised by her quick movements, but didn’t say anything. She was grateful for that.

“Shall we walk?” she asked instead, needing the distraction.

“Walk?” he sounded more surprised than ever.

“Well, I did come down here to see you,” she said, feeling uncertain all over again. “Unless you’re eager to get back inside? I can understand if you are of course, and if I’m being a nuisance—”

“Of course not,” he said quickly. “You could never be a nuisance, Anna.”

The way that her name rolled off his tongue was really rather delicious. Anna shivered, but mostly because of the cold. To dispel her increasingly dangerous thoughts, she began to move, and he followed her, close to her side. Every so often, his arm would brush against hers. It sent sparks through her body. She wondered why.

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Bates began to fumble in his pockets. Anna eyed him curiously, wondering what he was doing. At last he withdrew a packet of rather battered looking cigarettes.

“Oh, you smoke?” Anna couldn’t contain her shock. He hadn’t seemed like the smoking type to her.

“I’m afraid I do,” he said, pulling one out. “Nasty habit, I’m afraid, but it can’t be helped. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not,” she said automatically, but had to wrinkle her nose against the stench as he flared one up.

He closed his eyes and took a deep drag, tilting his head back to exhale a plume of smoke into the night sky. Anna tried not to breathe as the terrible smell assaulted her senses, then tried to rearrange her expression into one of neutrality when he looked her way. Unfortunately, he caught the disdain on her face.

“It does bother you,” he said, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, Anna, I’ll put it out at once.”

“No, you don’t need to do that,” she protested. “Honestly, Mr. Bates. Smoke it.”

He took another drag on it before throwing it over the railing and into the sea.

“Mr. Bates, I said you could finish it!”

“I know,” he replied. “And it was lovely of you to say so, but I wouldn’t dream of making you wait while I did. I understand that it’s not everyone’s favourite habit. My mother used to hate me smoking. I don’t like it, if I’m honest.”

“So why don’t you give it up?” Her voice was innocent and curious.

“Oh, I’ve had a bit too long and a few too many to give them up now,” he said evasively.

“Two of the people I work with smoke,” she confided. “Normally it wouldn’t bother me, but I think I find it more irritating that they use their smoke breaks to go outside and plot together. Everyone knows they do it, but no one can prove anything. They’re the nastiest people around.”

“You make them sound like some sort of villains,” he joked.

“Oh, believe me, they’re not much better than that. Thomas and Miss O’Brien are terrible. Half of the servants back home are terrified of them. I think that’s part of the reason why I don’t like smoking—it reminds me of them too much.”

“I suppose I should be grateful that I’ll never have to meet them if they’re that terrifying.”

“You should be. I mean, they’re not so bad when they’re on their own, but they can’t help but complain all the time, and they like to sneer at others. I just wish that they hadn’t had to come on this trip with me.”

“Sounds to me like you’re a rose caught between two thorns.”

She descended into a fit of laughter, but sobered a little when she realised how serious his eyes were, though he too was smiling.

“You’re too kind,” she said, feeling a little flustered.

“Not at all. It must be true.”

They continued walking across the deck for a few moments longer. The tap of Mr. Bates’ cane against the floor was repetitive and soothing.

“Will you have much time to yourself in America?” he asked her suddenly.

“I don’t know,” she said, frowning slightly. “Why?”

He shrugged, lowering his voice playfully. “You seem to find enough time here in your busy day to visit an old cripple like me.”

She had to giggle at that, lowering her eyes to the deck. “Don’t be silly. You’re certainly not a cripple.”

“I’m not being silly. I’ve come to terms with it now, just about. It took me long enough to. Anyway, this isn’t putting you back, is it?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. I always make sure I’ve got my work done, and I can always finish off what I need to when I get back.”

“But doesn’t that mean you have to stay up late?”

“Believe me, I’m used to it. I’ve been a maid for a long time now. Long hours are completely normal.”

They walked a little further, side by side. Anna wondered if perhaps they were walking closer than they should have been.

“Can I ask you something, Anna?”

“I think you just did.”

He flushed slightly at her teasing, dipping his head.

“You don’t have to ask permission, Mr. Bates,” she said, more seriously this time. “What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t fathom that you’re honestly willing to waste your time on someone like me. I’m not sure I deserve so much of your time when it was only by chance that I could help you. There must be plenty of other people who would love to spend time with you.”

“I’m not wasting my time,” she reassured him. “Not in the slightest. I know that we don’t really know each other, but I feel comfortable with you, Mr. Bates. You’re a gentleman, and although I don’t know you very well yet, you’re very good company. Much better company than any of the other stuffy servants in first class. I sometimes think that they’re more imperious than their masters are!”

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “I’ve never been very good company before.”

“Now you’re just being modest,” she said, pulling out her pocket watch. Her eyes widened.

“What’s the matter?” John asked her at once, seeing her reaction.

She shook her head. “It’s later than I thought. I’m sorry, Mr. Bates, but I’m going to have to get going soon. I’ll be late again if I don’t.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he said. “I’d feel terrible if I was the reason for you being late.”

“But you were also the reason that I wasn’t very late yesterday, so it evens itself out,” she told him with a smile as they began to make their way back towards the interior of the ship.

“You’re very good at making people feel better about themselves,” he commented teasingly.

She smirked in reply. “I like to see fairness, is all, Mr. Bates.”

It took them only a few seconds longer to reach the door which Anna had slipped through just last night. They came to a standstill in front of it. Anna was grateful that the cold night air was keeping most people inside.

“I should say goodnight now,” she said, checking her little pocket watch again. “I don’t mind, but if I’m late again my lady might find it appropriate to chastise me. We’ve always been on rather good terms, but I know she can have a sharp tongue when she wants to.”

“She sounds rather fearsome.”

“And made all the more fearsome because she’s a few years younger than I am.”

They shared a laugh. Anna thought they rather complemented each other. When the silence prevailed once more, she turned to face him, leaning coyly against the door.

“Goodnight then, Mr. Bates,” she said. “I’d better go before we get caught lingering here.”

“Yes, you should,” he agreed. “It sounds as if you’d be in enough trouble without adding even more.”

She giggled again, then bit her lip as she gazed upon the sight of him. His gaze on her was warm and friendly. He was still smiling. There really was something rather special about the way that it transformed his face.

On a whim, she stepped back towards him. His expression melted into one of confusion as he watched her movements. Her heart was beating rather wildly in her chest. Why was she doing this? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she _wanted_ to know. When she reached him, she rose up on her tiptoes. She hadn’t realised how tall John Bates really was before now. Her hands braced themselves against his chest. Before he could even open his mouth in protest, she’d pressed hers against the cold skin of his cheek. For a moment, he was stiff in her arms, but then he relaxed, bringing his left hand up to cup against her elbow. Warmth erupted from the spot where he’d touched her, radiating out from her and heating every single part of her body. Her breath hitched as she pulled away from him. She was sure that she was blushing again, though the cool wind could once more be attested as an attribute.

“Goodnight,” she murmured again, rather lamely.

“Goodnight,” he echoed, voice faraway, dazed.

She didn’t dare glance back as she stepped through the doorway that would lead her back up towards first class, but she didn’t need to to know that his gaze was burning against her back, level and speculative and unreadable.

\-- --

_21:45_

This couldn’t be happening_._

John stood rooted to the spot several minutes after Anna had slipped away from him, standing there as though he had been frozen by the bitter sea wind. His skin tingled where she had kissed him, warming him to his core despite the cold breeze. He was a mess of emotions. He didn’t know what to think.

Where had that kiss come from? What was it supposed to mean?

It had gone too far already.

The thought was a frightening one. He had not known Anna Smith more than two days. How could she possibly be feeling more for him already? Was _he_ feeling more for _her_ already?

It was ridiculous. It couldn’t possibly be true.

It _couldn’t_ be. Could it? Anna hadn’t seemed to express any desires for anything but a sort of friendship with him. She hadn’t been staring at him longingly or touching him inappropriately or driving him to the edge with the flirtatious flutterings of her eyelashes.

Not like Vera had done.

He closed his eyes, scowling at the memory of his wife. He didn’t need the thought of _her_ creeping up unbidden on him.

It was the thought of his wife that had got him into this situation in the first place. There had been a determined light in her eyes when she had offered the little bear charm to him. John had never known the likes of her before. His wife had been stubborn, but her stubbornness had been born out of bitterness. The remarkable young woman who had stood in front of him was so very unlike his wife, determined for the most selfless reasons, and it was that that had made him pause. Accept.

It was all perfectly fine. She had been extending friendship to him, he decided. Nothing more. A token of gratitude and a chaste kiss did not mean that she was falling head over heels for him. Besides, he was arrogant to even think that way. Anna was young and she was beautiful, he wasn’t going to deny that. Any man would fall down at her feet. And who was to say that someone hadn’t already fallen down at her feet, that she didn’t have a young beau of her own waiting for her back in England? Besides knowing that she was a servant for a lord, he didn’t know anything about her.

It was fine, it was all fine. He was just overreacting.

Yes, overreacting because he hadn’t had a woman in a long time. He was thankful that he had overcome his baser urges to simply use women for a night, but it seemed that his mind hadn’t quite got over its tendency to overanalyse the signs, like it had done in the days when he had taken women home, or to the nearest alleyway, when it had been of the utmost importance to gauge a woman’s interest in him before taking things further.

In all realities, he probably wouldn’t see Anna again anyway, at least not until the last day of their voyage. She hadn’t said that she’d be returning, and he was sure that she would find it difficult to, amongst the work that she had to get done for the family that she was serving. He was safe.

He tried not to think about how right and easy it had been to slip from calling her Miss Smith to her given name, how natural it felt rolling off his tongue. He and Anna, they were friends of sorts. And that was all that they’d ever be. God, he needed a cigarette. Fumbling in his pockets, John found the packet and withdrew it with shaky hands, working one free. Cradling it between two fingers, he fumbled for his matches and closed his eyes as he was about to light it. Anna’s face was at the forefront of his mind as soon as he shut out the world, her nose wrinkled in distaste. The desire to smoke left him at once. It was a habit that Anna didn’t like. He really shouldn’t.

_Christ, Bates, listen to yourself. Do what the hell you want. Stop being so bloody stupid._

It was scary, not wanting to smoke because she didn’t like it. She wasn’t here. What could she do? She had even told him to finish his cigarette earlier.

More to prove to himself that he could still do it rather than filled with the desire to anymore, John lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips. There, he could still do it. What did it matter that he wasn’t enjoying the taste of it like he usually did? He inhaled again, more deeply this time. His nerves weren’t settling right now, but they would soon. Very soon.

Everything was fine.

But a small part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that this was very dangerous indeed.

\-- --

_22:00_

It didn’t take her long at all to navigate her way back up to first class, dodging stewards here and there. She did all of this mechanically, her mind not focusing on what she was doing. How could it when it was filled with thoughts of Mr. Bates?

Had she really just done that? It was the question that burned at the forefront of her mind. Had she really just done something as foolish as kissing a man on his cheek, a man that she hadn’t even known forty-eight hours earlier? Her cheeks flared redder than ever as she thought about the way that he had smelled—of smoke and sweat and salty air—and the feel of his soft skin against her lips. She had to stop that train of thought. It was getting too dangerous.

_He’s a friend,_ she told herself firmly. _An acquaintance and nothing more._

It was her inexperience that was making her feel a little strange. She had never spent any time around men. Back at Downton, all of the lads were younger than she was, and she saw them all as brothers rather than anything else. She rarely had time off to go down to the village, and she didn’t really find any of the young men there that attractive anyway. In the house, the only men older than her were Mr. Carson and his lordship, and neither of them had any appeal for her. So actually spending time with a man who wasn’t constantly preoccupied with the chores of the day or boys that were too busy being silly to be remotely interesting had been a welcome change for her, a more mature, exciting and witty conversationalist. She liked him. Of course she did. But that was all it was. A friendly liking.

Glad that she had cleared that up with herself, she set about opening the door that led to first class. With an added spring in her step, she bounded up the stairs and emerged at the top, among the bright stars. They twinkled happily in the night sky, reflecting her mood. Grinning to herself, Anna turned around to shut the door behind her. Now all she had to do was get back to her own room and back into her work clothes, erasing all traces of her jaunt below deck.

And then the warm fuzz in her veins cooled to icy horror as the smug, triumphant voice behind her drawled, “Well, well, if it isn’t Anna. And just what have you been up to?”

It was as if time had stopped. Slowly, feeling as though leaden weights had been tied around her wrists and ankles, Anna turned towards the source of the voice.

Miss O’Brien was standing directly behind her, a victorious, terrible smirk on her face.


	5. Discoveries

_ 5\. Discoveries _

_Friday 12th April, 1912, 08:00_

“You’re quiet this morning,” Lady Mary commented as Anna buttoned up the back of her dress. “Are you quite sure that you’re all right?”

It was unusual for Lady Mary to take much notice of her unless she was in a particularly graceful mood, and Anna’s hands faltered for a moment.

“I’m fine, milady,” she said, hoping that her voice was steady enough.

“Are you sure? You’re looking a little tired this morning, I must say.”

“I suppose I’m still getting used to the differences between living on land and living on the sea.”

She was honoured with a low, cultured laugh. “I must say that I agree with you there. I wish Papa hadn’t been persuaded into booking this trip. I’d much rather be back at Downton.”

Anna made a non-committal noise as she crossed the room to fetch Lady Mary’s shoes. She had no doubt that she probably was looking tired. She had not slept a wink all last night. And while her thoughts had been preoccupied by Mr. Bates, they had been more worrisome than they had been the previous night.

Because all she’d been able to think about was Miss O’Brien’s horribly wicked smirk as she’d caught her red-handed by the door that led into second class. The lady’s maid had made it quite clear to her when she’d returned to the room that they were sharing that she was not going to tolerate such poor behaviour from a simple housemaid who had got above her station by being asked on this trip, and that the family would certainly be most interested to learn about her night-time escapades below decks with people who would bring the house of Grantham down if word ever got out. The Crawleys, she’d said triumphantly, would be disgusted to learn of what she’d been up to. And just what was that, exactly? Secret rendezvouses with bawdy men? Surely it had to be something unsavoury if it was being kept a secret?

Anna had bitten her tongue and kept silent. She wasn’t about to rise to Miss O’Brien’s bait, and she was determined to reveal absolutely nothing to her. If the lady’s maid wanted to reveal all to Lady Grantham, then so be it. But even so, she had been unable to sleep all night, tossing and turning as subtly as she could manage, her mind conjuring up all manner of outcomes to such a scenario. The odious woman hadn’t said a thing to her all morning, but the nasty smile on her face had promised trouble. Anna was ready for it, though it wasn’t stopping her stomach from tying itself in knots.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Anna’s heart leapt into her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe. She was suddenly aware of the fact that her palms were sweating.

“Hello?” The accent was thick and sing-song. And American. Lady Grantham.

Anna tried not to let her expression show too much disquiet as the countess let herself into the room. She wasn’t smiling, but her eyes were kind. Surely that was a good sign? At least it couldn’t mean that she was being sacked on the spot.

“Mama,” Lady Mary said, rolling her eyes a little. “Are you coming to check up on me already? You said that we wouldn’t be dining at breakfast until eight thirty. I’m not going to be late.”

“No, I haven’t come to see you,” said Lady Grantham, and Anna’s worst fears were confirmed. “I’m actually here to see Anna.”

“Me, milady?” she said in as level a voice as she could manage, hoping that she didn’t sound too guilty.

“Yes.” She still didn’t sound too angry, though Anna fancied that she could detect an air of weariness to her words. “You see, this morning O’Brien told me some frankly quite surprising things. And I really think that his lordship and I should speak with you about them. When we’ve breakfasted, will you please come to his lordship’s rooms?”

“Why?” Lady Mary interrupted. “What’s Anna done?”

“Never mind,” Lady Grantham said dismissively. “So, will you be there, Anna?”

Like she had a choice in the matter. “Of course I will, your ladyship.”

She nodded. “Very good. I’ll see you shortly.”

As soon as she was gone, Lady Mary turned back to her. “Anna, what have you done?”

“I’m quite sure I don’t know,” she replied as evenly as she could, though inside her heart was pounding.

Lady Mary rolled her eyes. “Of course you know.”

Anna pursed her lips thinly. “Well, perhaps I do. But I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Oh, I will,” she announced. “Because I fully intend to be there when Mama speaks to you.”

Predictable Lady Mary.

No more was exchanged as she finished dressing the woman for breakfast. Typically, the servants ate after their families had been dispatched to breakfast here on the _Titanic_, unlike what Anna was used to at Downton. By this time, she should have been starving. But now her stomach was rolling, and she felt too sick to eat. Instead, she decided to go back to her room. She wouldn’t be able to stomach Miss O’Brien and Thomas’ smug faces even if she _did_ have an appetite.

Once back in her room, she sank down onto the edge of her bed. What would she do if the Crawleys decided to take action against her and disposed of her services? They wouldn’t be able to until she got back to England, of course, but it still wasn’t a very comforting notion. Even if she had several weeks’ notice to make plans with, she couldn’t really see what she’d do. Even if she managed to procure another position in a smaller house, it wouldn’t be as desirable as working for the Crawleys, who were renowned for showing kindness beyond the call of duty to their employees. Anna had heard her share of horror stories during her time as a maid, ranging from the horrifying tales of maids being set upon by their masters to the ones who lived in such poor conditions that it was a wonder anyone stayed on. And even though her parents were dead, what would they say if they could see her? She could still remember when they had been trying to get her into employment, and they had bragged about her spotless record to Mrs. Hughes. It had certainly helped to get her the job. If she lost that job now, she’d be dishonouring their memory. Her eldest brother held the family farm now, and the idea of having to return their shamed her. He would have some choice things to say about it too.

And yet, even if the worst did happen, she would never be able to blame Mr. Bates for the way that things turned out. She had been the one who had broken the rules by choosing to explore in places where she was not allowed. She had been the one to tempt fate by returning. She would face the consequences of her actions. And she would be sure to keep quiet about them. She didn’t know much about Mr. Bates, but she had a feeling that he wouldn’t be the kind of man who would allow her to take the blame for something like that, even if it was her own fault.

\-- --

_09:30_

Breakfast passed too quickly, and before she knew it, Anna was standing back up again. Thankfully, Miss O’Brien hadn’t put in another appearance. Anna wasn’t sure how she would have faced her. If the meeting with the Lord and Lady Grantham went badly, then it would be torture for the rest of the trip, but until that happened, she could still keep her pride intact.

When she arrived back at the Crawleys’ quarters, she took a moment to compose herself outside. She needed to look as calm and collected as possible. Any whiff of guilt, and it probably wouldn’t be the best way of protesting her innocence. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Lady Grantham called, her voice muffled. She still didn’t sound angry. That surely had to be a good sign.

Anna did as she was told, opening the door and stepping over the threshold. Lord and Lady Grantham’s quarters were absolutely breath taking. A wonderful view of the sea. Gorgeous paintings. A soft bedspread. In other circumstances, Anna would have loved to have taken more time to soak everything up—on this trip, it was down to the White Star Line staff to clean the rooms—but there were more pressing matters at hand. She turned her attention back to the occupants of the room.

It was worse than she’d thought.

As she’d stated she would be, Lady Mary was sitting in the corner, her dark eyes flickering with interest behind an unreadable mask. Lord Grantham was standing by the window, peering out at the view. Lady Grantham was eyeing her expectantly, her blue eyes curious. And Thomas and Miss O’Brien were both present, standing there together, barely keeping the cheer from their expressions.

Just what on earth were they doing here?

Anna’s heart dropped into her stomach at the sight of them, but she tried not to let them bother her as she kept her attention trained on her ladyship. The countess continued to smile at her—it _had_ to be a good sign, Anna reassured herself—and gestured for her to come in properly and close the door. She complied. There was silence for a few moments before Lady Grantham cleared her throat.

“Now, Anna,” she said, and her tone was sympathetic. “As you know, I was speaking to O’Brien this morning, and she expressed some concern for you.”

Concern. Miss O’Brien had never been concerned about anyone in her whole life, as far as Anna could tell. Still, she held her tongue, answering with a neutral, “Oh?”

It was the best way of getting through this unscathed, she thought.

Lady Grantham nodded encouragingly. “Yes. In fact, she was really rather worried to catch you coming back through the door to first class. She was under the impression that you’d been slipping away to places that aren’t really safe for you. Isn’t that right, O’Brien?”

“It is, milady,” said the lady’s maid, and now her expression was positively gleeful. “I felt that it was only right to bring it to your attention…just in case Anna was to get hurt.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Lady Mary exclaimed then, looking disdainful. “Anna isn’t the sort of person to be so stupid.”

Anna flushed, but she didn’t feel as embarrassed as she should have done. After all, for all of their rapport, Lady Mary didn’t really know her.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Lady Grantham said kindly. “But I would like to hear about what you were doing from your perspective.”

At least they were giving her a fair chance to explain herself. Still, she wasn’t comfortable speaking about it in front of Thomas and Miss O’Brien. They only wanted to be there so that they could be privy to her humiliation first hand.

Thankfully, Lord Grantham, usually someone who could be relied upon to sense when someone was uncomfortable, spoke up then. “Perhaps it would be better if Thomas and O’Brien left. O’Brien’s had her say in private, and I think that it’s only fair that Anna is given the same opportunity.”

Thomas and Miss O’Brien’s faces dropped at that, and Anna couldn’t help but feel a rather uncharitable stab of triumph.

Lady Grantham smiled and nodded. “Yes, perhaps that would be best.”

At this, the two servants knew that they couldn’t argue, and slunk out of the room with backward glances that were part-curious, part-contemptuous. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Anna felt an immense wave of relief wash over her. Already she felt much more comfortable about the whole situation, even if she still didn’t know what their reaction would be to her sneaking around in places that were forbidden to her.

“Honestly, Mama,” said Lady Mary. “I don’t even know why you’re wasting our time on something like this. Anna is clearly not guilty of anything.”

“But O’Brien said that she was wearing her best Sunday clothes,” said Lady Grantham. “Surely there must be some truth in it?”

Anna was used to being invisible when it came to the family. As a servant, she was meant to blend into the background and keep her mouth closed about personal affairs that were discussed when she was in the room. However, it was a little more uncomfortable when she herself was the topic of conversation. She shuffled nervously. Normally, she wouldn’t dream of interrupting the family while they were speaking, but she felt that it would be justified in this case. She didn’t want them to get carried away with the details of what was or wasn’t true.

“I’m afraid what Miss O’Brien told you was true, milady,” she said quietly, breaking her silence. “Miss O’Brien _did_ catch me by the door that leads to second class. And I was…I _was_ wearing my best Sunday dress. But I can assure you that the reasons why aren’t as bad as what Miss O’Brien probably thinks.”

The Granthams had been shocked into silence by her speech. Lady Mary’s eyes were dark and watchful and surprised, evidently not expecting any of it to be true. Lord Grantham’s eyebrows had risen. Lady Grantham looked questioning. Clearly none of them had truly been expecting her to admit it all so openly.

“I think you should explain everything from the beginning, Anna,” Lady Grantham said quietly.

Anna nodded meekly. Her heart was beginning to pound sickeningly again. “Well, there isn’t too much to tell. I’m not trying to make excuses for myself, but this trip is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me, milady, and I was so excited by the exhilaration of it all that I let myself get carried away. I brought some of my best dresses with me just in case any spare time arose in America, but when I’d finished tending to Lady Mary the first night before dinner, I couldn’t resist taking a look around. And then…then I was overcome by the silly urge of exploring further. And I know it was wrong of me to do so, milady, but I did it anyway. I got changed and I went down into third class.”

Lady Mary inhaled sharply at that, and Lady Grantham winced. Evidently, her antics were worse than they’d imagined.

“Third class?” said Lord Grantham, as though he was trying to wrap his head around such an absurd notion. “But why?”

Anna flushed. She couldn’t very well tell him that it was because she felt more at home there. “I don’t know, milord. I wasn’t thinking properly. But I did. And then I got a little lost down there, and I was running late—”

“So _that’s_ why you were all flustered!” said Lady Mary accusingly. “You’d been gallivanting around below deck! Really, Anna, how could you be so reckless?”

Lady Grantham shushed her daughter, turning back to Anna. “Anna, I really must say that I don’t like where this story is going.”

“It’s nothing terrible,” Anna said hurriedly. “Honestly, milady. I just got lost and a gentleman was kind enough to help me find the way back to here. That’s why I was late the first day.”

“But O’Brien didn’t mention anything about Wednesday night. She said that she caught you yesterday.”

Anna could feel the tips of her ears reddening. It was times like this when she wished she could wear a proper hat to mask her flush. “Well, yes, she did. I was…touched by the kindness that the gentleman had showed me on Wednesday…so yesterday I went back to see if I could find him again to say thank you. And I did.”

“You went all the way back down to third class just to say thank you to a fellow who had helped you?” asked Lord Grantham. He sounded torn between horror and reluctant amusement.

“Yes, milord,” confirmed Anna, feeling the blush spread down the back of her neck.

“You went back to third class…to see a man…_alone_?” Lady Mary sounded scandalised, and Anna was a little affronted. Lady Mary wasn’t known for being perfect.

“But I’ve told you, milady, it wasn’t like that. He’s a friend, nothing more.”

“But what would you have done if he’d decided that he’d like you as more than a friend?” Lady Mary demanded.

“It wasn’t like that,” Anna repeated. “Truly, milady.” She thought it best not to mention that she’d been the centre of attention for the drunks who he’d been sitting with.

“And then what happened?” asked Lady Grantham.

Anna shrugged self-consciously, twisting her hands together. “Not much. We talked a little, and then I came back here to attend to Lady Mary. And that was when Miss O’Brien found me.”

“And…were you intending to see this man again?”

Anna was sure that she must be redder than a tomato. But she couldn’t lie. She’d always lived by the belief that people regretted lying more often than they regretted telling the truth, and it wouldn’t help her case if she was ever caught again. “Well…yes, I was. I wasn’t sure when, but he was nice, and I enjoyed his company.”

Lady Mary made a scathing sound in the back of her throat. Lady Grantham fixed her with a penetrating stare.

“I believe you when you say that it was all innocent,” she said. “And I’m very glad that he was a nice gentleman. But I really cannot allow you to continue going below deck. Your welfare is important to us while you work for us, and it would be scandalous if people realised that you, a young woman, were spending your spare time alone with a man while on board here. Gossip can be cruel.”

Anna’s heart had sunk right into the pit of her stomach at Lady Grantham’s words. This was it. She’d been stopped. Her friendship with Mr. Bates was over before it had ever really begun. She’d spend the rest of the journey in a state of never-ending boredom. Why should she feel ashamed of her actions? She’d—_they’d_—done nothing wrong. This wasn’t an illicit love affair. But what choice did she have but to accept it?

“Yes, milady,” she said. “I understand.”

“You’re a hard worker, Anna,” Lady Grantham continued. “I don’t want to punish you because I know that you meant no harm with any of it, and while it wasn’t the best thing for you to do, I know you wouldn’t mean for our family name to become tarnished.”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “But I’m afraid that there’s just a slight problem.”

“Oh?” It was Lady Mary who spoke up, disdain positively dripping from that one word.

Anna chose to ignore her, keeping her attention trained on Lady Grantham. “The thing is, I promised Mr. Bates that I’d see him again. And now if I suddenly don’t turn up again, he’s going to wonder why I don’t. And I do need to see him again, just because I—”

“Wait a moment,” interrupted Lord Grantham then. Anna had noticed that he’d been letting his attention waver for the last few moments, but now his eyes were focused almost disconcertingly on her. “Did you say Bates?”

“Yes,” said Anna uncertainly. “John Bates.”

Now his lordship’s eyes were gleaming. “No, that’s impossible!”

Anna furrowed her brow. She didn’t understand the sudden shift in his lordship. What was wrong? She didn’t know much, but she was certain that John Bates wasn’t an uncommon name.

But there was still that feverish air about him. “This man, this John Bates…what’s he like?”

“Milord?” Now she was more confused than ever. Lady Grantham and Lady Mary evidently didn’t understand either, for they were staring at his lordship with the same quizzical expression.

“I’m sure it’s all quite impossible, but if there’s the slightest chance that it’s true…”

“That what’s true?” asked Lady Mary. “Honestly, Papa…”

Lord Grantham shook himself, then cleared his throat. “A very long time ago, when you were still very young, I fought in the Boer War. My batman was a man called John Bates.”

“So?” said Lady Mary, even as Anna’s felt her heart beginning to pound in her chest. No, this was too incredible for words. There was no way that any of this could be possible…

“John Bates is the reason that I’m alive,” continued Lord Grantham, turning to look at his wife meaningfully. “I don’t like to talk about those days. But John Bates came back to save me when we were ambushed. He was shot and had to be sent back home. He was in quite a state when he left. I’ve only seen him once since then, when I visited him while he was recuperating after the end of the war. I haven’t seen him since then, but I owe my life to John Bates.”

A cold sweat had broken out on Anna’s forehead. When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was high and tremulous. “Where was he shot, milord?”

“The leg. I believe that he was lucky not to lose it.”

Anna inhaled shakily. “I think…I think it might really be him, milord.”

“Good God in Heaven! Truly?”

“Mr. Bates limps. He didn’t tell me why, but he relies on his cane.”

“A cane? Bates wasn’t using one when I saw him that last time.”

“But I’m sure it’s him, milord. It’s too much of a coincidence for it not to be.”

“Why should this make any difference?” enquired Lady Grantham.

“My dear, the man who saved my life is aboard this ship. Now that I know he’s here, wouldn’t it be rude of me not to acknowledge him?”

“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

“No, milady,” Anna supplied. “I told him that I worked in service, but I never said who with, and he never asked.”

“This is extraordinary. I simply must see him again.”

“And how do you propose to do that? Are you going to go gallivanting around below deck too?” Lady Mary asked sarcastically. Anna thought that her tone was uncalled for. It was overwhelming to think that Mr. Bates was some kind of war hero—saving the _life_ of an earl without thinking about himself—and she’d thought that Lady Mary would be grateful to hear about the man who had saved her papa. But apparently that was too charitable for the eldest daughter. Something foreign welled up inside her at the thought of Mr. Bates charging back into the fray, of lying there in pain as his leg collapsed underneath him. She wanted to know more about it. And she wanted to hear it from his lips, to know the whole story as she sat by his side and listened to the solemn tone of his voice.

Lord Grantham glanced to Anna. “Well, Anna knows who he is. She can meet him. And then she can invite him up here.”

Lady Mary’s eyes widened. “That’s even more ridiculous! A man from third class meeting an earl in first? Utterly preposterous!”

Anna felt a stab of indignity at such a comment—her own social status was no better than Mr. Bates’, after all, and Lady Mary was being even more insulting than usual—but she kept quiet as Lord Grantham spoke again.

“The first class church is open to all members of society on a Sunday morning,” he said, sounding more enthusiastic than Anna had heard for a while. “Anna can go down and invite him up here on Sunday, and then I can meet him properly.”

“But is it wise?” Lady Grantham asked worriedly. “We don’t want Anna attracting too much attention, and asking him to join you up here on Sunday is sure to make people talk.”

“And what would they talk about?” Lord Grantham asked determinedly. “The fact that I would be conversing with someone of a lower station than myself? Then I’d set them straight and tell the truth. Bates should be respected.”

Hearing Lord Grantham speak in such a way reminded Anna of why she liked and appreciated her employer. “So, should I be the one to ask him, milord?” Her heart lurched at the thought. She tried to imagine the look on his face as she revealed it all to him. Even though she hadn’t known him long, she had noticed that he looked terribly melancholy sometimes, as if he had the weight of the world crushing the air from his lungs and bowing his spine. Would this be enough to drive the despondency from his spirit? She liked the idea of him smiling widely at her after she’d conveyed the news. It made her stomach flutter and warm pleasantly.

“Yes, it would be for the best,” said Lord Grantham, before he began shaking his head in disbelief. “I really can’t believe this. To be here, of all places! Good God, that can only mean one thing. But why has he chosen to move to America? It’s just too extraordinary for any words! To upend his whole life like this, and his family’s too…”

The final statement threw Anna a little off-kilter. What…? A family? A terrible prickling sensation made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. No, his lordship had to be mistaken…

“What do you mean, milord?” she asked, and her voice was shakier than she had ever heard it. Lady Mary was looking at her with eyebrows that had disappeared into her hairline, but Anna chose to ignore her. Her mouth was dry, and her throat seared when she swallowed. In the space of a few seconds, she felt as if her whole world had turned itself upside down.

Lord Grantham looked at her in confusion, as if he wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not. She was serious. Deadly serious. Her heart was doing a nauseating quickstep in her chest. Her ears were ringing. She felt strange, as if she was viewing the scene from outside her body.

A _family_…

“I just meant that it must have taken something momentous for Bates to make a decision like this,” said Lord Grantham, as though she was being simple. “He’ll be heading for a whole new world of uncertainty, and he will have a great responsibility to his wife and his children.”

It was at that moment, with the confirmation resonating in her ears, that Anna’s world began to crash down around her, and she wasn’t even sure why. The air left the room. She physically felt her face draining of blood. She felt dizzy, light-headed, and she shook her head in a desperate attempt to rid it of the awful buzzing that had taken up residence there.

“Anna?” Lady Mary’s voice sounded distant. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, milady,” she heard herself answering from a long way away. “I’m fine.”

Still, her brain wasn’t registering the revelation. It _couldn’t_. Mr. Bates, with a wife, with _children_…

Lord Grantham was speaking again. She forced herself to listen, though she could barely focus on the words.

“Will you extend the invitation to the rest of his family too?” he asked. “I would hate for them to feel excluded.”

No, no. This wasn’t something that she could do anymore. She couldn’t go down there and face him again, couldn’t look him in the face, not when he had a wife and children. And she wouldn’t be able to meet them up here on Sunday, a smiling, laughing, awe-struck unit filled with hope for the future. She wasn’t sure how old his children would be—Mr. Bates was probably around the same age that his lordship was, so it wouldn’t be unfeasible that his children were the same ages as Lady Mary. Strong young men who were the image of their father. Beautiful young women who resembled their mother. His wife.

No, she couldn’t face him again after this.

_And why not?_ a nasty voice in the back of her mind asked.

Because she’d been making a fool of herself. She’d been following him and offering him tokens of friendship, and everyone else had mistaken her intentions and laughed at her. No wonder the men he’d been sitting with had leered and jeered at her. They’d obviously been thinking that Mr. Bates was having his way with his wife and then the pretty, unsuspecting girl who had wandered into his clutches. And he hadn’t even thought to _mention_ them to her, this family, had allowed her to make herself look stupid, and she’d even started to think that…

_Think what, Anna?_

No, she wouldn’t think like that. She _wasn’t_ thinking like that.

“Of course I will,” she said faintly. “I’ll tell Mr. Bates that his whole family is welcome.”

Lady Grantham was disapproving, she could tell. Anna hoped that she would open her mouth and object again, but she didn’t, merely turning away with an exasperated sigh, and that made it quite clear that the conversation was over.

“I think perhaps you should go and lie down for a few minutes,” said Lady Mary, and Anna was grateful for the fact that for once in her life, the eldest daughter of the house seemed to actually care about her wellbeing above appearance. “Have you finished everything that I need you to do?”

“Yes, milady,” she said feebly.

“That’s good. Rest until I need to change for luncheon.”

It was too hard to nod her head, but she did so anyway. Her neck felt like lead.

“And you’ll go down tonight to find Bates?” Lord Grantham enquired.

What could she say? She wanted to say no, to say that she’d changed her mind, that she’d been mistaken all along and it surely couldn’t be the same person as who Lord Grantham believed…

“Yes, milord,” she answered, feeling a knot of dread tighten itself in her stomach. “I’ll do it while you’re dining at dinner tonight.”

“Splendid,” he smiled. “You may go now, Anna.”

She turned dreamily. Each step that she took towards the door felt like a weight of iron, as though she was being dragged into the icy depths of the water beneath her feet. The end of their conversation echoed with each step she took.

_Married._

_Wife._

_Children._

_Family._

She’d been deceived, shown to be a truly foolish little girl. There was no such thing as friendship between men and women. The other men had been right. Mr. Bates could only truly be interested in one thing. Men did it every day of their lives. They left their wives and their children and slipped into the beds of other women, lowering their defences with sickly words and unfulfilled promises, getting exactly what they wanted.

But he had clearly misjudged her. She would never have given him that. Never. It was friendship that she’d wanted.

She’d thought that that was what he’d wanted too.

_Men are slippery devils, _her mother had warned her years before, when she’d been accepted at Downton Abbey. _Don’t you ever forget that, Anna. They promise you your heart’s desires, and then they take it all away from you when you’ve given them what they want. You be on your guard._

She always had been. When Toby, one of the hall boys, had promised her a new hat in exchange for a kiss, she’d scoffed and turned away. She’d had fancies for some of the young lads who had worked on the farms before she’d left home, but she’d been quick with her palm when they’d tried to advance things along too quickly.

_You’ve let your guard down with Mr. Bates, _that nasty little voice gloated. _Much more than you care to admit._

She shook her head desperately. No, she hadn’t. She _hadn’t_.

_The kiss,_ the voice continued silkily. _You gave him a kiss, didn’t you?_

A kiss on the cheek. It meant nothing. And it wasn’t to be misinterpreted, by herself, by anyone.

It didn’t matter anyway. Because once tonight was over, once she had been down into third class and delivered Lord Grantham’s message to him, she would never see him again. She would ask for her charm back and she would take it and she would never look back.

Friendship with men was a dangerous thing. Especially with married men with families.

Anna would never make the same mistake again.


	6. Confrontation

_ 6\. Confrontation _

_Friday 12th April, 1912, 20:30_

It was time.

Anna stood before the door that led below deck, a steward on one side of her, Lord Grantham on the other. His lordship was explaining the situation to the steward, who looked torn between telling him that he couldn’t jolly well do what he wanted, even if he was an earl, and curling up in a ball under that patronising gaze of superiority. Anna didn’t add anything to the conversation, merely standing there as if she was a part of the scenery. She had nothing to say, anyway.

The afternoon had passed slowly, and yet far too quickly for her liking. She had been permitted to lie down for a while, and while this was a luxury that had never been rewarded to her in the past, she found that this only made things worse. At least if she had work to do, her mind was too busy focusing on the task at hand to think about trivial matters. But, lying on top of her bed with her corset loosened and her dress unbuttoned, the facts—both confirmed and drawn up by herself—swirled incessantly in her head, almost driving her mad. She couldn’t bear the thought of trying to sleep, because whenever she closed her eyes, the image of Mr. Bates and a shadowy woman appeared behind her lids. Sometimes they were holding hands and sometimes she imagined them doing _more_, and she didn’t even know why she was, or why the thought of any of it made her feel sick to the stomach, and in the end it was so torturous that she resorted to simply sitting up and pressing her hands over her eyes, blocking it all out. And there were the images of the children, who were surely young adults now, perfect copies of their parents, mocking her with their existence, and then Mr. Bates himself sitting there all smug in the knowledge that he had fooled her. At one time, she had felt her eyes filling with tears, but she had resolutely blinked them away, because she wasn’t going to start crying over something as ridiculous as this situation. She was stronger than that.

Miss O’Brien, of course, had been in an absolutely foul mood. Anna hadn’t been able to avoid her, much to her dismay, because both she and Thomas had been lingering around outside when she’d emerged from Lord and Lady Grantham’s suite that morning. Evidently, they had not been able to hear anything, for their faces wore their usual contemptible expressions, and they hadn’t made any snide remarks other than to say that they hoped that she’d been suitably punished for getting ideas grander than she was, but later that afternoon, when Miss O’Brien had returned to their shared room, there had been a fire in her eyes that would have put the Devil’s to shame.

_“So, her ladyship tells me that you’ve been having secret trysts below deck with a married man,”_ she’d hissed cruelly. _“My, my, Anna. You ought to be careful. People will begin to talk.”_

Anna hadn’t bothered gracing her with a reply, which had obviously irritated her even more, because then she’d started raging about how ridiculous it was that she hadn’t been thrown out on her ear—if _she_ was Countess of Grantham, she’d said, she wouldn’t want a woman with such loose morals working for her.

_“If you were Countess of Grantham, you wouldn’t get anyone working for you,”_ Anna had shot back, which had caused an outburst on how disgusting it was that she was being treated like royalty, what with the time off and the permission to return below deck.

Anna would have gladly have had all of Miss O’Brien’s work on top of her own if it meant that she didn’t have to seek out Mr. Bates ever again.

But there had been no excuse on earth that she could have come up with that would have been acceptable enough to put Lord Grantham off. The constant stares from Lady Mary that had resulted in her dropping things all night had not been remarked upon, and her nervous expression had seemingly been of little importance. She supposed that she could have tried to have postponed the inevitable for longer by waiting until she’d had her dinner, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to touch a bite anyway, so there was no point in simply sitting there and letting the anxieties eat away at her insides.

The steward eventually relented. It wasn’t as if he had much choice in the matter. He couldn’t really oppose an earl. So it was then that Anna slipped through the door with complete permission, seeking out the man who had caused her so much emotional turmoil in the space of twenty-four hours.

On the way, her stomach twisted itself in knots. She kept imagining what she would say to him, trying to phrase it right in her head. She tried to think of how she’d react if she came face-to-face with the very reason that she felt so much turmoil.

Her feet paused when she reached third class. Her stomach was protesting harder than ever; the butterflies that had taken up residence there were kicking up a storm. She could always pretend that she’d been unable to complete her mission. Third class was a busy place—the busiest place on the entire ship, she guessed—and the crowds were thick at the best of times. Mr. Bates would be difficult to find within the throng. At least, if she chose not to look. Even though she didn’t know him well—even less well than she’d originally thought, came the snide voice in the back of her mind—she had a feeling that she would find him in the bar again, surrounded by the leering drunks. But she didn’t have to go to him. She could hover around here for an acceptable amount of time, then return to first class and state that, unfortunately, she had been unable to complete her mission. It would be a blessing to avoid him.

But what if Lord Grantham didn’t let it rest? What if he insisted that she went back again tomorrow, because there was still time to catch him and extend the invitation? She couldn’t very well keep returning and declaring that she’d been unable to find him when she’d managed to find him with perfect ease for two days in a row. More than that, she wanted her charm back. She wasn’t going to let her fears stop her from claiming back what was hers.

With more bravado than she actually felt, she began to move again, peering at passers-by on both sides of her as she walked, looking for the distinguished figure of Mr. Bates. She didn’t see him anywhere along the deck, but that was probably because it was a cool evening. The wind was whipping up quite a storm, whistling angrily as it tore down the deck, smacking the faces of the people brave enough to be outside. Anna felt her cheeks reddening almost immediately as she walked down it, ducking her head to shelter herself from the brunt of the harsh breeze. She was thankful when she reached the other side, stumbling gratefully into the shelter of the inside corridor. She recognised this place at once. It was where she had stood with Mr. Bates just twenty-four hours ago. That meant that the bar area was nearby. She would check there. If he wasn’t there, then she would give this up for the night and perhaps try again tomorrow, if she absolutely had to.

Cautiously, she moved forward, peering into the room. Now that she was right here, her nerves were building up again. But she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She could do this.

The smoke was thick as she stepped inside, men taking advantage of the poor weather outside to smoke and socialise. She wrinkled her nose against the stench, intricately twined with that horrible odour of beer, trying her best to make out the hazy faces behind the smoke. Several men glowered at her again, sensing a foreign presence in their midst, while others leered drunkenly. Anna knew that she couldn’t linger long staring at one person because he was more than likely going to get the wrong idea, so she moved on quickly, trying to ignore the drunken jeers and catcalls that followed her. Mr. Bates was nowhere in sight. She peered in all of the corners. Nothing. Twin feelings of relief and disappointment rose up inside her. Well, at least she wouldn’t be lying when she told his lordship that she’d tried. The disappointment was purely for her missing charm.

It was only when she began to turn away that she heard someone calling her name.

“Anna? Anna!”

It felt as if the world had stopped turning as slowly, so very slowly, she forced herself to spin in the direction of the voice.

_Mr. Bates’_ voice.

Her eyes landed on him at once. He was standing up at one of the tables, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his gaze held hers. His brown eyes were warm and welcoming.

_Don’t you let him fool you, Anna._

She couldn’t very well avoid him now that he’d spoken, and even if she wanted to, she knew that it was defeating the whole point. Gathering her dignity as best as she could, she weaved her way over to him. He was sitting with that same group once more. They were all drunk again, and she could read the weariness in his face even from a distance. Yet again, he seemed to be the only member of the group who was sober.

“Look who it is,” one of them exclaimed when she was close enough, squinting at her. “It’s Bates’ girl come back.”

“I’m not Mr. Bates’ girl,” she snapped before the man in question could open his mouth. The thought of it all made her sick. Was his wife waiting patiently for him in their cabin while the group seduced other women?

“Sounds like you’re in the bad books,” jeered one of the others.

Mr. Bates frowned, evidently feeling a little apprehensive as he looked at her. “Anna, is there something wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m quite sure,” she bit out in reply.

His frown deepened. “It certainly doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“It’s not important. I need to talk to you, that’s all. I have a message for you.”

“A message?” Now he looked perplexed. “From who?”

“I bet I know what it is,” smirked one of the other men nastily. “You’d better go, Bates.”

Mr. Bates looked at her questioningly. She jerked her head irritably, and he edged himself around the table. She turned and began to march away, and she heard him limping hurriedly behind her, his cane tapping rhythmically against the wooden floorboards. He didn’t seem to know what to say, because he was silent. That didn’t bother Anna. It gave her the chance to gather herself together, to prepare herself for what was to come. Her heart was beating a sickening drumroll against her ribcage, like a bird beating its frantic wings in an attempt to break free of its cage. She didn’t speak as she led him out onto the deck. Mr. Bates didn’t question her as she moved towards the railings. He seemed to understand that she didn’t want to be overheard. Still, it brought her a bit of uncharitable satisfaction to see that he began to shiver almost immediately, though she did try to squash it. She wasn’t petty like that, not like Miss O’Brien. They came to a stop together. The silence lingered on for a few beats while Anna tried to gather herself one last time.

“Anna?” Mr. Bates was the first to break it, shifting cautiously from foot to foot as he eyed her. “Has someone—have _I_—upset you—”

She cut him off before he could say too much. This was going to be on her terms, not his. He owed her that much.

“I’m not here for myself,” she said. “I’m here for someone else.”

“But no one else knows me here except you,” Mr. Bates frowned.

“You’re wrong. Someone else does.”

“Who?”

Mr. Bates’ face was confused, and she didn’t want to drag this out any longer. She just wanted it to be over.

“My employer knows you,” she said.

“Your employer? Anna, I’m really not following you—”

If Lord Grantham hadn’t revealed so much shattering information about the man in front of her that morning, then she would have taken great delight in teasing him, watching his face twist in boyish frustration as they laughed together over her cryptic statement. Now, she had no time for such frivolity.

“My employer is Lord Grantham,” she said briskly. “He says the two of you are acquainted.”

The silence that was left behind was the most stunned sort that she had ever witnessed. Mr. Bates’ eyes were huge in his head. His mouth hung open. His throat worked. Whatever he had been expecting, Anna could tell that her statement had most definitely not been that. A myriad of emotions was flashing across his face, passing too quickly for her to read.

“Lord Grantham?” he managed at last. His voice was shaking.

“That’s what I said. I take it you remember him?”

“Yes,” he muttered. There was a pained fondness in his eyes, the kind of expression that was worn when recalling some bittersweet memories. Anna couldn’t quite fathom it.

Not that she wanted to. She wasn’t here to fathom anything.

“This is impossible,” Mr. Bates murmured. “Utterly impossible.” He was shaking his head, and when he raised a hand to his hair distractedly, she noticed that it was trembling. “I didn’t know that he was here.” His eyes widened again. “How does he know that _I’m_ here?”

She at least had to explain that to him. “He found out this morning. One of the other servants—Miss O’Brien—caught me last night. She told her ladyship this morning, and I had to speak to her about it. I mentioned your name, and Lord Grantham wanted to know more.”

Mr. Bates winced, but said nothing. Anna assumed that he wanted her to continue. She would, but she would keep it as brief as possible.

“He was very interested when he mentioned that you’d been shot, and I said that you…limped.” She felt a brief tug of empathy at the embarrassed look in his eyes, but quickly stamped on it. “He was certain then that it must be you. And from your reaction, I take it that you _are_ that Mr. Bates.”

“I am,” he confirmed quietly. “We served in the African War together.”

It was true. The whole thing was _true_.

“Lord Grantham said that you saved his life.”

He shrugged, dropping his gaze. “I’d prefer not to talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

That was fine by her. She didn’t want to talk about it either. She didn’t want to know the horrific details of war. She didn’t want to feel pity and sympathy for him. Not when he’d lied to her.

“That’s all I came here to say,” she said.

“What?” Mr. Bates lifted his gaze again.

“I’m a maid. Do you expect me to be allowed every evening off to come and see you in third class?” Perhaps her tone was a little snappish, and too harsh, but she told herself that he deserved it. He _did_, after deceiving her in such a way.

And _how_ has he deceived her, really?

By not telling her the truth, she thought fiercely. She would never have let it get this far if he had.

This far. Those words were dangerous. What did she mean when she thought that?

She pushed it away quickly as Mr. Bates opened his mouth to speak.

“Of course not,” he said. “Forgive me, I was being selfish. Of course your work comes first.”

The self-depreciating side of him was disorientating. She shook it off. “And, like I said, I have a message for you. From his lordship.”

“And what’s that?”

“That he’d like for you to join him on Sunday for the church service in first class.”

Mr. Bates’ expression was one of agonised wonder. “This is unbelievable. Why would he want to see me again after all this time?”

Anna thought that that was a very silly question, given the things that had evidently passed between them during their time at war. Still, it wasn’t her place to enlighten him of the hows and the whys and everything else. She had her orders, and that was all she intended to follow.

“And in _first class_?” he continued, more to himself. “I can’t make myself believe any of this.”

“Well, it’s all true,” she said. “Do you think I’d lie to you?”

Like he had to her?

“Anna, I know you’re trustworthy,” he smiled gently. “It’s just a lot to take in. I never dreamt that our paths would cross again, and to have crossed them because of _you_…”

She opened her mouth to protest, wishing that they _hadn’t_ met again because of her, but he cut across her obliviously.

“…But I’m afraid I won’t be attending the church service on Sunday.”

This threw her momentarily, and while a great sense of relief washed over her at the fact that his refusal meant that she wouldn’t have to come face-to-face with his family, she was duty-bound to follow it up.

“Why?” she asked.

He shrugged a little listlessly. “I’d just prefer it if I didn’t. Give him my sincere thanks for making such a kind offer in the first place, but tell him that I’m otherwise engaged.”

In a moment of sudden clarity, she understood just why he didn’t want to make the journey up to first class. She knew that he was worried about the looks that he would receive and the way that the rest of Lord Grantham’s family would perceive him. And, more than all that, she knew that he was worried about the way that Lord Grantham himself would look down on him, how his eyes would be full of pity as well as gratitude as he gave his thanks, and how his gaze would flicker to the cane that he relied upon to get him around.

“Very well,” she said briskly. “But the offer is there for both you and your family if you wish to take it.” She began to turn away from him then. She didn’t want to see the look on his face as she brought them up. A soft smile? A wince that she’d discovered his secret?

She didn’t expect to feel his hand close around her wrist and hold her there as he stepped closer to her, eyes wide and confused. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Mr. Bates,” she snapped at him. “You should at least have the decency to tell me the truth now. I _know_.”

“Then you clearly don’t know anything, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She bristled at his words and pulled her wrist away roughly. “So you’re calling his lordship a liar?”

“No,” he frowned, “but I’m not sure that he should make assumptions about my life.”

She wasn’t about to relent that easily. “So you’re saying that it’s not true? That you don’t have a _wife_?”

He blanched at her words. She waited for him to deny it. Did she secretly want him to? But the silence lingered on and on, and she realised that he wasn’t going to deny it. It was all _true_. After an age, Mr. Bates opened his mouth to speak. No words would come. She gave a harsh laugh. He flinched at its bitterness.

“Thank you for confirming that, Mr. Bates,” she said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll be leaving.”

“No, don’t,” he said. He sounded desperate. Pathetic. “Please, Anna, it’s not what it seems.”

“Isn’t it?” she said tersely. “I didn’t think there were other ways of seeming when it involves marriage. So what was I supposed to be to you? Someone to soften up and have before you arrived in America? A bit of a distraction? Well, I’ll tell you this now, Mr. Bates: I’m not that kind of woman, whatever your friends might think.”

“They’re not my friends,” he said hurriedly, “and I certainly don’t see you as any of that, Anna. You have to believe me. I cherish your friendship, and I would never dream of taking it further than that.”

“It’s very easy to speak the words, Mr. Bates.”

“You believed me yesterday! My feelings have not altered in the slightest. You’re a good, kind woman, Anna. You deserve more than that.”

“Yes, I do,” she said slowly. “And I’m sorry, Mr. Bates, but I’m afraid I can’t continue on now knowing that you have a family. It would be wrong of me, and it would be wrong of you.”

“But why does anything need to change? I told you, it’s not as it seems, and even then, I’m glad of our friendship, truly—”

“I don’t like being lied to, Mr. Bates. My mother has always brought me up to be honest, and I like it from other people. I trusted you, and you lied to me. And I’m afraid that I can’t do this anymore.”

“But—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “I won’t listen anymore. I can’t. If my friendship meant anything to you, then you should have told me the truth from the start. Now, I really must go. Please don’t expect me to come down here again. I’ve fulfilled my duty tonight, and that’s it.”

“Anna,” he said softly. His tone was painful, and it tugged on her heartstrings, even as she glared at him. Still, she had to be strong.

“Have you my charm?” she asked. “It would make sense for me to receive it now while I’m still here.”

For a moment she thought that he was going to refuse, or say that he’d left it in his room so that she would have to come back again, but after a brief moment of staring, he slowly slid his hand inside his jacket pocket. Her heart momentarily lurched at the fact that he was carrying it about so closely to his person, but that was quickly dashed when she remembered that it made perfect sense; his wife would surely ask questions if he left it lying about casually.

Mr. Bates slowly extended his hand towards her, opening his palm hesitantly. Anna hesitated for a moment too, then reached out to take it. Their fingers inadvertently brushed as she curled her own around her charm, and she jerked back hastily, withdrawing her hand and turned away from him, stuffing the charm unceremoniously into her pocket. She didn’t speak another word as she began to walk away, and neither did he.

Even without turning around, she knew that he’d be standing there, the wind whipping his hair, his shoulders hunched, his expression forlorn, his eyes burning into her as he let her walk away without trying to stop her.


	7. Choices

_ 7\. Choices _

_Saturday 13th April, 1912, 01:00_

John sat alone at the bar, sweat standing out against his forehead, the glass of whiskey held up in front of his face. He examined it hazily, swilling the contents round, watching as it hit the sides. Occasionally, a drop would spring free from the glass, splattering against his hand. It felt divine, so cold and inviting.

He could do it. He could do it easily. Just raise the glass to his lips and down it in one. It would burn a welcoming path all the way down his throat, and he would feel alive. And he could do it over and over again until he couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone Anna Smith’s.

What else did he have to lose? Really?

The amber liquid beckoned him, invited him to lose himself in its friendly depths. He very much wanted to give in. He hadn’t had a drink in so long. The fumes were heady, and he felt a little misty simply by breathing those in. It was a delightful promise of how he would feel if he actually downed the whole thing.

_Come on, Bates. Do it. What else have you got to lose? You lost your self-respect a long time ago._

Yes, that had well and truly deserted him the moment he had been shoved into prison, amongst the real thieves and murderers. It had been sure to never return to him when he’d been ridiculed and tormented for his limp. He had fought back, of course, but there was only so much a recovering alcoholic with the shakes could do against six healthy young men with more than just a keen desire to show him who ruled.

He raised the glass to his lips. He could already imagine it fizzing on his tongue.

There was no need to hide behind a façade. Who did he think he was, sitting there with the other men and not touching a drop while they lost themselves in drunken oblivion? He was no better than any of them. He had been there many times before. He told everyone that he didn’t drink. Hypocrite. He _could_ drink. He could drink a lot. And now he had no reason not to.

He hadn’t even realised until today how much Anna Smith’s friendship had touched his life, until those few hours ago. A woman he had barely known two days somehow had the power to give his life a bit of light, had given him reason to smile and look forward to the breaking of the day.

And now she was never coming back. Because nothing good could ever last in his life.

Even out here, Vera could ruin everything for him. In the middle of the bloody Atlantic Ocean, she was reaching out those poisonous claws of hers and holding on tightly to him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and Anna’s face, torn between anger and agony, sprang up in the blackness. She knew about his wife. She thought he had a family. But her assumptions were _wrong_. He didn’t have a wife, not in the real ways. And he most certainly had never had a family with her. She wasn’t here with him. She didn’t _understand_.

But what was there to understand, really? She knew the facts, and they would be more than enough for most women.

It was clear that Anna was a woman of strong morals, and he would never blame her for that. He respected strong morals in women, and he had even when he had returned home from Africa injured, wanting nothing more than to drink and use them. He had never pursued a woman with strong morals, even then. He had only been interested in chasing the ones who would fold easily beneath his clumsy words and his even clumsier touch. The respectable women he admired, because they had said no and had _meant_ it.

Anna was one such woman, and despite everything, he respected her determination to do the right thing, even if she didn’t understand everything in this instance.

_Why should she take the time to understand you, anyway? She doesn’t know you. What right do you have to her understanding? She’s right. You’ve done nothing to earn it. All you’ve done is lead her on with vague explanations._

He gritted his teeth and tilted the glass. Now he could feel the liquid burning against his lips. It would be so easy to open his mouth and let the liquid pour down his throat.

_Just do it. Anna’s opinion doesn’t matter now._

No, it didn’t matter anymore.

He opened his lips slightly. The whiskey was almost there.

But there was someone whose opinion should matter.

His mother’s.

Guilt flooded his body at once, and he slammed the drink back down onto the counter. The barman looked around at him, but he kept his gaze trained on the liquid, mind whirring. Of course his mother still mattered. How could he have even thought of drinking it? After everything she had done for him, standing by him while she watched him ruin himself, having to put up with the mocking whispers and jeers about her useless son, and that was how he was going to repay her for her kindness? She had spent so much of her money to get him this ticket, to buy him another life. Had he really been about to throw all of that away for a drink that he knew would never stay at just a one time slip?

_Utterly unbelievable, Bates._

He closed his eyes, lifting a hand to massage at his temples. He had promised his mother that he would make a new life for himself. He wouldn’t let her down now. Not this time. He’d go for a smoke instead.

Wearily, he left the whiskey on the bar. Someone else would be happy to finish it for him. The air was still too cold outside, but perhaps it would do him good. He was sweating, and he couldn’t bear the thought of returning to his cabin just yet. He withdrew his cigarettes and lit one shakily, moving to lean against the railing and peer down into the invisible sea. Smoke billowed gently around him, and he welcomed the nicotine, feeling it snake through his bloodstream and calm him just slightly. The wind was still blowing. He shivered, remembering the way that he had felt earlier when Anna had dragged him outside. Before everything had gone wrong. He inhaled again, dropping ash. God, he really did need that drink. But he wouldn’t succumb. He was stronger than that.

He wasn’t even sure why he had been compelled to return to the bar. He had stayed outside for a long time after Anna had left him, simply staring at the spot where she had stood, getting progressively colder until he had been almost frozen in position.

He hadn’t returned then, had instead decided to take a walk—anything to get him moving. Anything to forget the past. But he was notorious for being painfully slow with his injured leg, and his thoughts had never left him even once. His head had been filled with her, and how she would never return again.

It had been enough to drive him to the bar.

It had almost been enough to drive him to drink.

Sighing now, he leaned further over the railing, furrowing his brow as he thought. The cigarette hung loose between his fingers.

It was strange, the way that Anna Smith had made him feel. He had never expected to feel so at ease, so…_happy_ when in the company of another woman. Of another human, if he was honest. That kind of comfort had been a foreign thing to him ever since he had returned from Africa. Vera had not been a comfort to him, their relationship slowly disintegrating with every day that passed. The other women that he had taken to bed had only been poor attempts at making himself feel alive. Nothing had passed between them, except meaningless sex. But Anna…Anna was unlike anyone he had ever known before. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. For the first time since Africa, he had felt as if he could connect with someone. As if she could understand him.

But she hadn’t.

He wasn’t enjoying his cigarette very much. Listlessly, he dropped it into the ocean below, then tapped his fingers against the railing. He wished his mother was here. She’d be able to help him.

_Johnny, if you want something, then you have to make it happen for yourself._

Her voice flooded his mind in a moment, and he jumped, so clear it was.

She had spoken those words to him a thousand times before. Right through his childhood, they had been his guiding light. They had spurred him on to join the army—something that John thought his mother secretly regretted—and they were used against him as a rallying point when he had returned from Africa indolent and angry at the world. She had used those words when he had been released from prison, despondent and tired of life, and she had used them the day she had given him the ticket to America.

It had always been sound advice. And perhaps it really could be of use to him now.

Anna had said that she would never be returning again. But…but what if _he_ was the one who contacted _her_, tried to explain himself properly? It was something that usually he would never do. But this was not a usual situation. It was the strangest kind of all, one that he had never experienced before. He didn’t understand it, but he _did_ understand that he didn’t want to lose Anna Smith’s friendship. Not yet. Somehow, she had the power to make the world seem brighter. She made him feel more like a real human. And, more than all of that, she was one of the kindest and loveliest people that he had ever come across.

No, he most certainly didn’t want to lose her yet.

When they docked in America, everything would change. They would bid farewell and go their separate ways. He would remember her for the rest of his life. But they still had four days left yet, and he didn’t want them to part on bad terms. He owed it to himself, to her, to make amends.

And that was exactly what he was going to do.

With the determined furrow of his brow, he turned away from the railing and made his way back inside.

\-- --

_07:00_

She hadn’t slept a wink all night.

Now, attempting to pin her hair into a tight bun with the help of the tiny mirror squashed into the corner of their room, Anna cursed herself for being so ridiculous. Why had she had so much trouble sleeping? She shouldn’t have done. She was proud of what she’d achieved yesterday. She’d stuck by her principles and not allowed herself to sway. She’d delivered her message in a professional manner, and she’d gotten her lucky charm back.

So why was it that she was feeling so empty inside?

No, not empty. Just betrayed. She was just hurt that she had been taken for a fool, nothing more.

Yes, nothing more than that. She was used to trusting people and not having people betray that trust. So it was simply a shock to the system to find out that someone who had appeared as kind as Mr. Bates could be so cruel and cunning.

_Perhaps that’s a bit harsh._

It wasn’t. It _wasn’t_.

Anna sighed loudly, giving up on her hair for the moment. Scowling, she turned to make her bed instead, pulling the covers up viciously and tucking them under the mattress.

“Blimey,” sneered Miss O’Brien from the other end of the room. “What’s got into you this morning?”

“Since when is that any of your business?” she shot back through gritted teeth, shoving her nightgown under her pillow haphazardly.

“Touchy this morning, I see,” the lady’s maid said nastily. “I bet I know why.”

“You know nothing,” Anna snapped heatedly. “So kindly keep your nose out.” She picked up her brush again and yanked at her hair, willing it to co-operate.

Miss O’Brien narrowed her eyes. “You should learn some respect, Anna.”

“And you should learn to keep yourself to yourself,” she shot back. “You don’t frighten me, Miss O’Brien, no matter what you think.”

The other woman smirked a little, and Anna gritted her teeth again, choosing to head to breakfast before she lost her temper completely. A few servants were milling about at the tables, and she sank down onto a seat at the corner of the room, listlessly drumming her fingers against the table top. She wasn’t hungry in the slightest. Her stomach was still churning with apprehension.

She had told Lord Grantham last night that Mr. Bates had declined his offer to meet on Sunday for the morning service. His lordship had expressed his disappointment, and had pressed for countless answers. Anna had answered him as fully as she could, but it had been painful. Almost too painful, for someone who had only met him days previously. She couldn’t understand it. Why should it hurt so much? It wasn’t as if she’d known him for years.

And yet there was something within her that made her feel like she had.

Anna sighed, burying her face in her hands. This was no good. Her mother had always told her that dwelling on the past was a pointless exercise. Usually, she had been able to follow this advice perfectly. She had been heartbroken when the first boy she’d ever kissed had ignored her only a day later, but she had quickly put it aside and moved on. She had been lonely when she’d left home to work at Downton, but she had concentrated on the future and gradually the pain had lessened.

Why couldn’t she stop herself from thinking about Mr. Bates?

She pushed herself to her feet determinedly. Her mother had always looked down on ill people, blaming them for it. Perhaps that applied to an ill mind too. She hated being ill for that reason; it brought up reminders of the disappointment and slight contempt on her mother’s face. If she worked, perhaps her mind would be taken off Mr. Bates. It _had_ to. She would not allow her mind to distract her from working to her best.

And they would be in America soon. There was bound to be plenty to distract her there.

Although why she would still need distracting from thoughts of Mr. Bates in America, she wasn’t so sure.

\-- --

_10:00_

John tapped his cane nervously against the decking, watching the two men discussing something in low voices not far away from him. He tried to appear as inconspicuous as possible, pretending to be taking in the sight of the sea—it was certainly very beautiful this morning, and a little warmer than it had been yesterday—but he still kept his eye on them as much as he could. He couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by, not when he had made his mind up.

He’d barely had any sleep the previous night, his thoughts too preoccupied with Anna. He had tried to fight against it desperately at first, knowing that it was wrong to spend so much time thinking about the young woman, but in the end he had given up, and allowed his thoughts to travel to wherever they’d wanted to go. He thought that he’d dozed after that, caught in that plain between waking and sleeping, and he had dreamed of her. She’d been sitting next to him, and even though he’d known that she wasn’t really there, he had still been able to feel her. Her warm breath against his ears as she’d spoken in that low, broad tone. Her bright blue eyes had been trained on him, and he’d known that he’d been staring into them as though he was mesmerised. And then her warm fingers had curled around his, small and delicate and tender.

He’d woken then, to find the hairs on his body standing on end, and his heart beating a little too fast in his chest. Sleep would never have come back to him, not after such a disconcerting moment, and so he’d heaved himself out of his bunk, rustled round in his belongings for a sheet of crumpled paper, and taken it, a pen, and a bottle of ink out onto the deck, heedless of the loud snoring of his roommates. There he’d proceeded to put his plan into action.

The wind ruffled his hair, and he casually withdrew a cigarette, flaring it up while pretending to contemplate the horizon. Smoke furled from his mouth, and he shifted from foot to foot, chancing a glance over his shoulder. The men were still deep in discussion. The younger was looking decidedly put-out. He wished that they’d hurry up.

At last, the men parted, and John turned around at once. The younger was still hanging around, watching the older walk away with a deep scowl on his face. Once the older one had turned the corner, he pulled out a flask and brought it to his lips, downing whatever was inside it in several gulps. This was perfect. John doubted very much that it would be water, especially when the man glanced around furtively before tucking it back out of sight. Then, sighing, he folded his arms and made to move in the opposite direction. John knew that this was his one and only chance.

“Excuse me, sir!” he called, forcing his leg to move quickly as he limped after the lad. “Sir!”

The man jerked around when he heard the shout, and he raised a questioning eyebrow at the sight of the undoubtedly harried looking man hurrying up to him.

“Can I help you?” he asked self-importantly,

John reached him, panting for breath. He cursed the fact that his leg made him even more useless, but he forced himself to pull himself together.

“Sorry,” he said. “But I need your help.”

The man’s eyebrows rose further. “In what way?”

There was no easy way of wording what he wanted, so he decided that he should simply put it out there. “I need you to do a favour for me.”

Now the young lad looked disdainful. “You want me to do you a favour? I’m not sure if I can do that, sir.”

“I know it’s unorthodox,” he said. “But it’s imperative.”

“And what does this important favour consist of?” The lad’s tone was condescending, but John bit his tongue to fight his desire to snap back.

“I need you to take a message to first class for me,” he said, holding the boy’s stare calmly.

The lad did a double take. “Excuse me?”

“I need you to take a message to first class for me,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not quite sure that I understand.”

How much plainer did he have to be? “I have an urgent message that needs to be taken to first class. You can help me.”

The lad’s lip began to curl. “I’m afraid that that’s just not possible.”

“And why not?”

He arched a lazy eyebrow. “I would have thought that that was obvious. What business do you have with anyone in first class?”

“I have a friend there,” John said. “I need to get a message to her, as quickly as possible.”

The eyebrow arched further. “A friend?”

He could feel the hot flush creeping up his neck, but kept his composure. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. “Yes, that’s right. She’s a maid.”

“A maid.”

“With Lord Grantham.”

“Lord Grantham!?”

“That’s right. So I would be grateful if you could deliver it for me.”

“I know it might seem like it, sir,” the boy started self-righteously, “but I am not your slave while you’re on board this ship. I am not here to do your bidding.”

“I never meant to suggest that you are. But I think it would be in your best interest to do me this small favour.”

“Oh?” he sneered. “And why’s that?”

“I saw what you were doing earlier,” John said simply. “And I’m quite sure that the White Star Line would be very interested in hearing that you were drinking on the job.”

Those were the magic words. The young man in front of him paled significantly, and he looked as if he was going to be sick. “You wouldn’t! This is the only job I have!”

John shrugged. “We both have something that we can do for each other. You can take this letter up to first class for me. I can keep quiet about what I saw.”

“And what’s stopping you from speaking out as soon as you know that I’ve done what you wanted?”

“I don’t have much self-worth left anymore. But if I give you my word, then that’s one thing that you can always count on.”

He could tell that the young man was warring with himself, but he knew that there was really only one outcome.

“Give it here then,” he said moodily. “Let me get this over with. Who do you want it delivering to?”

John felt relief wash through his body. “Thank you. If you could deliver it to a Miss Smith, that would be most appreciated. And you have my word that I won’t breathe a thing about what I saw to anyone.”

The young man nodded grudgingly and snatched the letter when John held it out to him. He tucked it into his pocket.

“Do I have your word that you will deliver it?” John asked.

“I’ll deliver it, I promise.”

John nodded, deciding not to pursue the matter further. He had little faith left in most of the human race, after his months in Africa and the way that his perceptions of the world had been warped by his drink abuse, but he just had to hope that the lad would uphold his half of the bargain. Perhaps the fear would make sure that he would. He didn’t like to be manipulative. It reminded him too much of the man that he had once been, and that did not make him feel good about himself. Plain and simple, he had been an absolute bastard at times. It was a part of himself that he was trying to bury; he had vowed that he would never become that man again.

But, he tried to comfort himself, he was doing it for a good reason.

He watched as the lad gave him one last glower and turned away, muttering something about delivering it just as soon as he could find the time to. John nodded his acceptance, though the lad didn’t see it.

There was nothing more that he could do now. Nothing except wait.

And hope.

\-- --

_13:00_

Anna was sitting herself down with a plate of food when the man entered the room. She glanced up when the whole room fell silent. It was rather amusing to see the way that the servants closed ranks against outsiders, viewing the lad who had dared to enter with barely disguised suspicion. He looked nervous, standing there. He was clutching at something in his hand. Anna was instantly intrigued. This was the most interesting thing that had happened here in the servants’ quarters since she had boarded the ship. Everything was usually so ordered and stuffy. Was someone in trouble? It would be rather diverting, to see someone else getting in trouble for doing something that they shouldn’t have been. All of the servants were so very imperious. It would be nice to see some of them getting taken down a peg or two. Especially someone like Lady Astor’s maid. Anna spied her sitting in her usual corner, looking down her nose as she raised her fork to her lips.

The man was looking around the room. Anna heard him clearing his throat.

And then the blood froze in her veins.

“Is there a Miss Smith in here?”

No. No, it couldn’t be. Smith was a common enough surname. She wasn’t going to be the only Smith serving a member of the aristocracy on the _Titanic_…

And yet no one else was responding. There was not even one miniscule movement from anyone else in the whole room.

This couldn’t be…

But then she realised how paranoid she was being. Mr. Bates had been on her mind all night and for the majority of the morning, but that didn’t mean that this had anything to do with _him_. She was being ridiculous. More likely, Lady Mary wanted her for something, and hadn’t been able to send one of the other servants to find her because they were also in here. So sending a member of the White Star Line was the next logical step. And if Lady Mary wanted her, then she couldn’t delay any longer.

On shaky legs, she stood. All at once, the eyes of the servants were on her. She swallowed hard. When had there been this many of them?

“I’m a Miss Smith,” she said. Her voice sounded impossibly small. “Could it be for me?”

The young man shrugged. “Do you work for the Earl of Grantham? Have you been in contact with a man in third class?”

Now the tension in the air was palpable. Anna could feel her ears burning with embarrassment. If people hadn’t been paying attention before, then they most certainly were now. She could almost feel the weight of the stares, crushing her where she stood. She didn’t dare look for Thomas and Miss O’Brien.

The young man was still waiting for an answer. She opened her mouth, but no sound would come. Perhaps she could lie, say that she wasn’t the right Miss Smith. She could hardly believe this. She had told Mr. Bates not to contact her again. She’d thought that he would keep his side of the bargain.

What on earth was she going to do?

“Well?” the young man prompted, making the decision for her. “Do you know this man?”

The last time that she had told a lie had been when she was eight years old, and she’d told her mother that she hadn’t eaten the bread that she’d baked, even though she had. When her mother had found out the truth, she had smacked her legs so hard that she’d wept for hours afterwards. She’d never lied since. And she couldn’t start doing so now.

Clearing her throat, she managed to croak, “Yes, I know him.”

The man looked relieved at her admission, moving forward through the room towards her. Everybody’s head swivelled round to watch his progress. Anna felt her face flushing hotter than ever. This was absolutely surreal. How was any of this even be happening?

It seemed to take hours before the man reached her, leaving plenty of time for everyone to ogle her openly. But it was even worse when he did reach her, for she could finally see what he was holding in his hand properly. Clasped in his grasp was a white envelope. A letter.

From Mr. Bates.

Anna stared at it for a few moments with wide, frightened eyes. What could he possibly have written to her? Why did he seem to think that writing to her was a good idea? She had told him yesterday how she felt…why was he disregarding her wishes? What could possibly be important enough for him to pursue her like this? What about his _wife_?

“Miss?”

She realised that she’d been staring at the envelope for too long. The young man looked half-quizzical, half-irritated.

“Are you going to take this or not? Only, I have a job to get back to, and I can’t stand around here all day while you look like a rabbit about to be eaten by a fox.”

A hysterical bubble of laughter effervesced up inside her at the thought, but she clamped it down firmly. Now was not the time for such things.

What was she going to do? Should she say that she didn’t want it, to send it back down to Mr. Bates? That would surely get the message across.

And yet…and yet she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she was curious. She was so terribly curious. Her curiosity would be her downfall, her mother had often told her, but she couldn’t stop it. There was a niggling feeling in her stomach, the anticipatory fluttering she always felt before she was going to do something exciting, or forbidden.

She should take it. It didn’t mean that she had to do anything with it, but at least her curiosity would be sated. She wouldn’t need to drive herself mad with wondering.

“Yes, I’ll take it,” she said quietly, reaching out a shaking hand to grasp at the envelope. Obviously relieved that his task was over, the young man turned to leave. Anna didn’t watch him go, too transfixed by the envelope in her hand.

People were whispering around her. She didn’t care. She just needed to get away, to read the words in the privacy of her own room. Slowly, she began to move towards the exit. The whispering grew louder. Everyone was watching her now. Some were sneering. She kept her eyes trained ahead. The envelope was clenched tight in her hands, twisted between her fingers. It was almost burning her. Just what did this mean?

What did _any_ of this mean?

\-- --

_13:20_

John leaned listlessly against the railings, watching the sea churning beneath him. It was a majestic sight. The wind ruffled through his hair. The sun was beating down, but there was still a chilly breeze. He was glad for his jacket.

The young lad had been gone for a while. He was bound to report back to his post soon. John just needed to be patient for a little while longer. Not so very long ago, he had considered himself a patient man. He had needed great patience ever since his release from prison.

Now, however, was a completely different situation. When it came to Anna Smith, John wasn’t sure if he could ever be patient.

A thousand questions were rattling around his skull, but there was only one that was taking precedence. What if she refused to take the letter? What if his painstaking efforts had been for nothing?

_Better to know now,_ he thought to himself. _At least that way you’ll not be standing around later waiting to know if she took it._

The door in front of him swung open. John jerked his head up at once.

It was the young lad. He was looking harried. When he caught sight of him, he frowned.

“What are you still doing here?” he said gruffly, sullen-faced.

“I only want to know if Miss Smith took the letter or not.”

“She took it, yes. I don’t think she was pleased to receive it, mind.”

John’s heart, which had begun to rise a little in relief that she’d accepted it, sank immediately. He’d been expecting it, but for some reason, it hurt a little.

The young man was regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. “Can I actually get on with my job now?”

“Yes, of course you can,” said John distantly. “Thank you for doing that.”

The lad snorted, beginning to saunter away, leaving John alone.

Well, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Anna had not point-blank refused to take the letter. Of course, that didn’t mean that she would definitely read it. She might simply drop it in the ocean. Or burn it in the fire. She might read it and not care.

Still, there was nothing he could do about that now. The only thing that he could do was wait and see if she turned up later on in the evening. He would be waiting for her, either way.

The evening would come soon enough.

\-- --

_14:15_

“Are you quite all right, Anna? You seem very distracted today.”

“I’m sorry, milady,” Anna muttered, bending down to retrieve the hairbrush that she had dropped.

“Is there anything that you want to tell me?”

Anna looked up cautiously, peering into the mirror with a little trepidation. “Milady?” Lady Mary rarely took an interest in her feelings.

Lady Mary swung around in her chair so that she was facing her properly. “Is something bothering you? Is it that business with that man who Papa used to know?”

She fidgeted with her hands, feeling her face flush. “Oh, no, milady. I wouldn’t say it was bothering me.”

“But it _is_ on your mind?”

She paused, wondering how much she should say. While she liked Lady Mary very much indeed, she wasn’t known to be the most sympathetic of the three daughters. And yet she knew that she just had to share the news with someone.

“Milady, will his lordship be available after I’m done here?”

Now Lady Mary looked more curious than ever. “I think he will be…but why?”

Anna shrugged. “It’s not important, milady.”

“But you can’t whet my appetite like that and then say no more about it! What’s happened?”

Anna kept her mouth in a firm line. “It’s nothing, milady. Honestly.”

Lady Mary sniffed, looking affronted that she wouldn’t budge on the subject. “Well, never mind. Papa will tell me what the problem is later on.”

Anna sighed, moving to help her into her dress. “I’m not being awkward on purpose, milady. But until everything is sorted out, I think it’s best not to go making wild stories.”

“It’s fine, Anna. Now, can you pass me my diamond necklace? I need to look my best for this luncheon.” There was something in her tone that was very, very bitter. “No doubt Mr. Patrick will expect it.”

Anna chose not to comment, knowing that it wasn’t her place to do so. Nothing more was exchanged after that, as Lady Mary went back to brooding silently, fluffing her hair in the mirror.

\-- --

_14:25_

Anna’s heels clipped along the wooden floorboards as she made her way towards Lord Grantham’s quarters. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest. The letter was tucked safely in the pocket of her apron, though she kept touching it to make sure that she hadn’t dropped it somewhere along the way. She tried not to take note of how sweaty her palms were.

When she reached the door, she knocked on it smartly.

“Hello?” Lord Grantham’s voice was muffled, and he sounded confused.

She took a deep breath and pushed it open, praying that Thomas had already finished dressing him. The last thing she needed was to have him hovering around like some kind of vulture, eager to gorge on whatever titbits that he could get his hands on.

Thankfully, the room was empty apart from his lordship, and she heaved a great sigh of relief. Lord Grantham’s face expression didn’t change in the slightest as he regarded her with furrowed brows.

“Anna?” he asked. “Is there something wrong? Does Lady Mary want me?”

“No, milord,” she said, feeling horribly awkward. “I’ve actually come to see you. I’ve had a strange…request.”

“Request? That sounds rather ominous.”

“Oh, it’s nothing too bad, I don’t think.”

“And who is this strange request from?”

“It’s from Mr. Bates.”

“It’s from _Bates_? I thought you said that he wasn’t going to be coming tomorrow, and that it was doubtful that there would be any more contact from him?”

She bit her lip. “Well, that’s what I thought, milord. And I don’t think that he’s changed his mind on the business of coming up here tomorrow.”

“So what _is_ this request all about?”

She withdrew the letter with shaking hands. Lord Grantham’s eyes widened.

“He wrote to me this morning,” she explained needlessly. She cursed the waver in her voice.

“And what does it say?”

Anna held it out towards him. “He says that he has something to ask me.”

This is extraordinary,” he said. “What on earth could that possibly be?”

“I don’t know, milord,” she said miserably.

“Well, I don’t want to know the ins and outs of it all,” he said. “Though it is a rather odd.”

“It’s nothing to give you any concern, milord, I promise.”

“I think I can trust you when you say that.” He smiled, evidently trying to make her feel more comfortable.

“Would it be possible for me to go if I wanted to?”

“I wouldn’t stop you, no.”

Anna nodded. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She didn’t think it would be right to visit Mr. Bates down in third class once again. But she wouldn’t deny that there was a part of her that was very curious indeed. He’d written that he needed to tell her the whole truth, and he’d be grateful if she took the time to listen, though of course he’d understand it if she didn’t want to. He’d also written that she could eat in third class, if it was acceptable, to make sure that she would be back to serve Lady Mary in time for bed.

“I know it would be unconventional, my lord.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“But I will confess to being a little curious about it all.”

“It’s very strange indeed that he should want to speak to you about something, when he won’t come here tomorrow.”

“I know, milord.”

“But you want to go?”

Anna sighed. It wasn’t a question of _wanting_. It was simply a question of _needing_. She needed the closure. She needed the truth so that she could move on.

“If you’re truly fine with me going down there, milord, then yes, I feel that I ought to.”

Lord Grantham nodded. “Very well. Ordinarily, I would object to such a bizarre request, but I do trust Bates. He saved my life, after all.”

Anna nodded. “Thank you, milord. I’ll be sure to report back to you later this evening.”

“There’s no need. You can let me know everything tomorrow. I’ve no doubt that you’ll be exhausted once you’ve seen to Lady Mary.”

She probably would be, but she doubted that she’d be able to sleep again tonight. Especially if Mr. Bates made some more unwelcome revelations. But that was a chance that she would just have to take.

“Thank you, milord. I’d better be getting on now.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Anna.”

She dipped her head respectfully, then ducked back out of the room. Her heart was still pounding in her chest.

She was going to see Mr. Bates again. He had asked to see her, and she was going running. It was absurd. Unheard of. She was getting in over her head.

Just what had she agreed to?


	8. Honesty is the Best Policy

_ 8\. Honesty is the Best Policy _

_Saturday 13th April, 1912, 20:00_

“So, are you ever going to tell me about what had you so preoccupied?” asked Lady Mary as Anna carefully pinned her hair in place.

She raised an eyebrow. “Has his lordship not spoken to you?”

Lady Mary pouted. “No, he hasn’t, which I think rather unfair.”

Anna didn’t think it was the least bit unfair. It wasn’t Lady Mary’s business. She was very thankful that his lordship had not said anything. The last thing she wanted was for Lady Mary to begin lecturing her. Or, even worse, Lady Grantham telling Miss O’Brien. She would never hear the end of it.

“Is that all right?” she asked, fixing the last pin in place.

“Yes,” Lady Mary sighed. “Thank you, Anna. You’re free to go.”

Her heart lurched at that; there was no more procrastinating. She had made the decision to have dinner with Mr. Bates in third class and to hear him out, whatever that was supposed to mean. It was a daunting prospect, and yet Anna felt powerless. It was almost as if she couldn’t stop herself, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Tonight promised to be a strange one.

\-- --

_20:05_

John stood in his cramped cabin, nervously smoothing down his lapels. He wished that there was a mirror so that he could check that his hair was right.

_Stop being a prig, Bates. You’re not a young man trying to impress a girl._

No, but it would be nice to look presentable. It wouldn’t help his case if he looked like a slimy old man, even if she thought he was one.

Well, there wasn’t a great deal that he could do about it now. He had dabbed cologne to his neck and dressed himself in the best suit that he owned. If he didn’t get going soon, then _he’d_ be the late one. He could hardly say that he’d been delayed because he’d been fussing over his appearance.

With a nervous sigh, he left the room.

\-- --

_20:30_

Anna was glad for Miss O’Brien’s absence as she stood in the middle of her room wearing nothing but her undergarments. She was completely torn over what to wear. It was a decision that she’d been dithering over ever since she had returned from her duties with Lady Mary. Initially, she’d thought that making no effort was for the best, that going down in her black maid’s outfit was the most sensible thing to do.

And yet, there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to slip into her best Sunday dress. It always cheered her up to be out of her uniform. It didn’t mean anything, the dress. She’d looked nice in it over the last couple of days, much nicer than she usually did in her plain uniform. When did she ever get the opportunity to dress up?

A quick glance at the clock made her curse aloud. She was late. She was very late. She needed to hurry up, otherwise she’d never get there.

Grabbing the dress, she set to work.

\-- --

_20:45_

John waited nervously by the door to the smoking room. Inside, he could hear the loud chatter of cheerful men who were enjoying a few hours away from their wives and children. He wished that he could feel as relaxed as they were. He had never felt so nervous in his entire life. Not even facing death in Africa could compare to this. It was almost unbelievable, that a young woman could be the cause of his stomach fluttering wildly and his inability to sleep at night. Not even Vera at the beginning had made him feel like that.

It was a terrifying thought. He shook it away and chanced a glance at his pocket watch.

A quarter to nine. Anna was very late, if she was coming at all.

He felt an almost crippling blow of disappointment—and something else—at that thought. He’d wait a little longer, just in case. They might have told her that she couldn’t come, and she might have been unable to get the message to him. And she was also a very busy woman. In reality, she wouldn’t be able to escape until the family had finished with her services before their dinner. Perhaps that was the real reason why she hadn’t put in an appearance. He couldn’t leave just yet. What if she turned up when he’d gone, and he wasn’t there? That would be a disaster that would spell the end. He couldn’t allow her to think that he was insincere, when he had never been more sincere about anything in his life.

Half an hour longer. Waiting that long wouldn’t hurt anything. He had nothing else to do.

Time seemed to be trickling by more slowly than it ever had done before. John watched as man after man passed him by, all moving to relieve themselves of the need to drink. He listened as the talk became louder and louder, unintelligible sounds slurred by the drink that had already been consumed. John wondered distractedly if they were spending all of their money on beer, on a celebration of their change of fates. There certainly wouldn’t be any changes of fate if that was the case. If they reached America with no money at all, then they would be no better off. In fact, they would be worse off, in a foreign land with no one to help them. He was glad that he had stopped drinking. That most certainly would have been the case for him.

“Mr. Bates?”

He was jerked out of his thoughts at once, and span on his heel as quickly as his bad leg would allow. All thoughts were chased clean out of his mind. His mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed hard, and his mouth seared. He fought hard against the urge to stare.

Anna was standing before him. She looked stunning. He had expected her to turn up in her maid’s uniform once again, and even though he had seen her in this dress twice before now, it still seemed so new to him. How it brought out the colour of her eyes. How it complemented the pretty hat sitting on top of her head. How it fit her body nicely.

_Don’t go there, Bates._

He forced the thought away dutifully, trying for a tentative smile. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming.”

She didn’t return the smile, but her tone was soft, so he considered it a small victory. “I got held up.”

He suspected that she wasn’t quite telling him the truth—there was something in her voice—but he didn’t push it. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Awkward silence settled over their shoulders. John shifted from foot to foot, desperately searching for the words that he needed. He had been prepared for it being awkward, but he hadn’t envisaged it being quite as bad as this. Still, it was his problem to fix, and he was determined to make it as comfortable for her as possible.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her. “We can go out and get something to eat now.”

She shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“The room…it’s not the most suitable of places for talking. Would you mind if we postponed the conversation until after dinner? We can go to the general room then. It’s the most private place we’ll get without having to go outside.”

“If that’s what you want,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

“If you’d prefer for us to talk first, then we can.”

“Mr. Bates, whichever is best for you is fine for me.”

He checked his pocket watch again. “Well, there are only two dinner sittings. I’m not sure how long I’ll need in order to explain everything to you. Perhaps it would be best to eat first.”

She shrugged again, and followed him quietly when he began to lead her away. Nothing passed between them as they moved through the ship’s interior. John could feel his palms beginning to sweat. In his head, before her appearance, he had tried to think up a thousand different conversations that they could have in order to make her feel a little more comfortable. Now that she was with him, they had all deserted him, leaving him feeling like a bumbling young lad trying to catch the attention of the girl that he’d fallen for. It was disconcerting.

They reached the dining room without another word passing between them. It was a noisy place, filled with people of all ages: couples, young families, older people. It was soothing in its vastness. They removed their coats, hanging them on the hooks by the door. John led the way over to a free space not far from one of the ends. For a moment, he faltered, realising just how close that they’d have to sit to each other. Would it have been better to find two seats opposite each other, where it seemed less intimate? But it was too late to change his mind now, so he took a deep breath and tentatively scraped the chair across the floor for her to slip in. She mumbled her thanks, and he took the seat beside her, shivering slightly as he accidentally brushed against her arm. She was warm.

If Anna was affected by their closeness, then she didn’t show it, allowing her eyes to wander around the room.

“It’s nice down here,” she said awkwardly.

John jumped at the opportunity to talk about anything. “Yes, it is. Much nicer than I’d expected. I imagine it’s not quite as friendly in first class.”

“You imagine right,” she said. “No one speaks to anyone else in there.”

“It’s not usually like that here,” John said. “Most of the time, people here are willing to share their stories about why they’re leaving England. Most of them are just looking for a better life.”

They trailed off into silence. John wondered how to break it again. Once more, he was tongue-tied. It was perturbing. He had never felt this way around anybody before. Still, he was determined not to let the terrible silence dominate, so he cleared his throat. The topic of conversation was pathetic, but it was all he could think of.

“I think it’s beef tonight,” he said. “It’s probably not what you’re used to in the servants’ quarters.”

“You forget that I’m from third class myself,” she said. “Beef is fine.”

He shuffled self-consciously. “Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologise.”

“Right. Well, I suppose I should make the servers aware that we need our dinner. I won’t be a moment.

He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away.

\-- --

Anna tapped her fingers against the table top as she waited, watching him converse with a young man. The awkwardness surrounding them was even worse than she had dreaded. Perhaps she had made a huge mistake coming here tonight.

Mr. Bates returned a minute later. She caught a whiff of cologne as he moved back into his seat, and felt the hairs on her arms rise beneath her dress. She was glad that he couldn’t see how it was affecting her, especially since it was a confusing and unwanted reaction.

They were served their food. Despite her misgivings, she felt her stomach growl eagerly at the aroma, and remembered that she hadn’t eaten properly in almost two days. Now, for some reason, her appetite was back with a vengeance. Regardless of it being third class, Anna was mildly impressed by the portion and the heartiness of the meal in front of her. Her class might be viewed as inferior to the people she served, but the members of the White Star Line were obviously doing their best to make the journey as enjoyable as possible for everyone. The food was much nicer than what she’d been eating in the servants’ quarters—it was proper worker’s food. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mr. Bates watching her. Her stomach fluttered. She kept her gaze away from his for as long as possible, concentrating on her meal, but soon it was too much to ignore. Even though he was trying to be discreet, she could still feel his gaze burning her.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked him at last, tired of the way that he was making her feel.

Fumbling for his glass of water, Mr. Bates took a gulp before formulating an answer. “No, nothing’s wrong. I was just wondering if everything was all right with your food.”

“I’ve told you, it’s fine,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended.

He kept his gaze focused solely on his plate after that—she stole a few glances herself to make absolutely sure. He didn’t seem to be enjoying what he was eating, pushing it mindlessly around. She herself had eaten more than she’d thought she would. What was taking away Mr. Bates’ appetite? His nerves over the conversation to come, whatever that entailed? Guilt, perhaps, that he’d somehow managed to beguile his wife so that he could meet her alone?

The sudden, vicious reminder that there was a Mrs. Bates waiting for his return had her cutlery falling with a clatter to her plate. Now her appetite was gone too.

Conversation didn’t come easy for the rest of the meal, and neither of them could bring themselves to do anything but pick listlessly at the remaining food. Anna kept her eyes trained firmly down. She couldn’t bear to look up. This had been a very bad idea. What on earth had she been thinking? She had come to hear out a married man, who was probably going to spout more excuses, and all the while, his wife would be sitting in her cabin, waiting for him. And what about his children? If they were near Lady Mary’s age, then they would be allowed to go out by themselves. If they were men, at least. Perhaps they were young women, staying with their mother.

Her heart lurched a little at the thought of little girls. But it made some crazy sense in her disorientated mind.

At last, Mr. Bates seemed to have had enough, for he pushed his plate away decisively.

“I’m full,” he announced, though he had barely touched a scrap. “Have you done yet, Anna?”

She wished that he’d go back to calling her Miss Smith. It seemed less intimate. Less wrong. “Yes, I have. I don’t think I can eat anything else.”

He nodded in nervous acknowledgement, then pushed his chair away from the table. “Then would you object to us finding somewhere quiet for us to talk?”

“Talking is what I came down here for,” she said.

He lowered his eyes from hers, knowing what she was implying.

“Come on,” he said lowly. “We’ll go to the general room. It’s quite comfortable, and there should be some room for us there.”

She could offer no objection, so she followed him quietly, leaving the chaos of the dining room behind.

“It’s not far from here,” he offered once they were back out in the open. “We’ll be there soon.”

She nodded, still not knowing what to say, and the only sound that could be heard for the next few minutes was the sound of his cane clacking against the floorboards. Anna kept her gaze firmly ahead.

At last, he paused outside a room.

“After you,” he said awkwardly, allowing her to squeeze passed him. Once inside, she was hit again by how absurd the whole situation was. Here she was, a maid for the Earl of Grantham, standing in her Sunday best in a room filled with children and adults of all ages, all talking together as they carved out a new life for themselves, about to hear out the pleas of a married man. What on earth would her mother have made of the situation if she was still here?

She would kill her for even contemplating it such an absurdity. She’d probably have a heart attack knowing that she’d actually put herself in this situation.

“There’s a quiet corner over there,” Mr. Bates said behind her, and she almost jumped out of her skin. “I think it’s the best we’re going to do without going outside to freeze.”

She let him lead her to their destination, and sank gratefully into one of the seats that he gestured to. It was softer than she’d been expecting. Mr. Bates was settling himself into the seat opposite her, but she kept her eyes cast down. There was a hole in the fabric of the chair, which was ironic, considering how new the ship was. Was she the first person to sit here and have her life changed irrevocably? How many more would follow her? The uncomfortable silence continued between them until he leant forward with a sigh, moving to rest his cane at an angle between his legs.

“I’m glad that you agreed to come down here,” he started.

She shifted in her seat. “Curiosity is one of my weaknesses, I’m afraid. It doesn’t mean that my feelings have changed.”

He kept his composure steady, but she caught a glimpse of something else in his countenance, a kind of wilting. It was strange to witness.

“I know that,” he said quickly. “And I wouldn’t try to force you to change your perception of me in the end. But I need to tell you the truth of the matter. I’m not sure that I could ever forgive myself if I didn’t. Despite what you might think, I regard you very highly.”

Anna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Mr. Bates—”

His eyes were upon her at once, and she found that she couldn’t finish whatever she had been planning to say. Instead, her mouth worked uselessly for a few moments, before she managed to mumble, “Say whatever you’d been planning to.”

He nodded, taking a few moments to gather himself, before locking his gaze with hers with resolve. “There’s no easy way for me to say this. By all usual accounts, I am a very private man. Too private, my mother sometimes says.”

At his introduction, Anna’s heart plunged into her stomach, leaving a sickening feeling behind. Of course there was no easy way for him to admit that he was a married man. There was no easy way for her to hear it. But she had to.

Mr. Bates took a deep breath, obviously steeling himself for what was to come. “Everything that we discussed yesterday was true. I did serve in the African War with Lord Grantham. I was his batman. We did share certain stories from our respective lives…”

Anna took a shaky drag of air. This was it. She was about to hear about his family from his own lips.

“But I promise you that the things that Lord Grantham passed on to you yesterday were nothing but assumptions based on stories heard ten years ago.”

“You didn’t deny it yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You said it was true.”

“Parts of it. Not all of it.”

“So the part about you having a wife and children is true?”

“Not in the way that you imagine it,” he said quietly, leaning forward in his seat.

“How many ways is there to imagine such things?” she said.

\-- --

This was it. This moment was what he’d been waiting for all day. The moment he had fretted over. He was going to tell her the truth. He was going to admit all of his past sins and grievous mistakes to a young woman he had barely known for three days. And yet, something inside him was urging him forward, almost _commanding_ him to do it, to unburden himself to her kind soul. There was still the chance that she would turn away from him in disgust. But it was better than him staying silent and wondering later if he could have held onto her friendship if he had told her the truth.

He took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.

“I have been married,” he told her. “But it’s not like you think. My wife—Vera—she isn’t here with me. We’re not starting a new life together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My wife and I are separated in every way but name.”

“And…and your family?”

“No doubt Lord Grantham merely assumed that I had one. He probably thought that it would be natural for me to have one by now. But my wife and I…we never did have children together.”

He sat back and waited for her reaction.

\-- --

“Oh.” It was the only thing that she could possibly think to say. She felt completely and utterly overwhelmed. Her thoughts couldn’t stay still long enough to latch onto anything concrete. Mr. Bates was married, but he wasn’t with his wife. There was no Mrs. Bates waiting patiently for her husband’s return. There were no children wondering where Dad was sneaking off to every night. Despite her earlier thoughts, she knew that it was the truth from the earnest sincerity in his eyes. Realising that he was staring at her with a great deal of trepidation, she fought to say something more cohesive.

“Anna?” he prompted her cautiously, and it was enough for her to find her voice.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear that,” she said shakily.

“It’s the truth, Anna. I promise.”

“I believe you.” She furrowed her brow. “But what on earth went wrong for it to get to this? To you leaving the country alone?”

He sighed, looking downhearted all over again. “It’s not a pretty tale. But if you want to know, then I shouldn’t deny you.”

“I would like to know.” She _needed_ to know all of the facts now. She couldn’t be caught out like that again. She couldn’t be left feeling so hurt and betrayed. If he was completely honest with her, then at least she could respect that, even if she couldn’t accept it.

Mr. Bates nodded heavily. “Very well, if you’re sure. I won’t do you the dishonour of lying to you. Not when you’ve been gracious enough to come down here and listen to me.”

Anna’s heart was beginning to beat fast in her chest once again. It seemed that it was doomed to always react in such a way when he spoke to her. What was he going to reveal this time? A tremor of fear crept through her body. Was he going to say that he’d been violent?

\-- --

John took a deep breath to steady himself. Whatever happened after this conversation, he knew that he’d feel better for it. He had never breathed a word of his shame to anyone else alive. He hadn’t even shared the whole story with his mother. She had found out the truth after he’d been convicted, after the poison of the alcohol had finally been flushed out of his system. He had told his mother through the barrier of a letter, too cowardly to tell her to her face. Somehow, this was even more frightening than that. As he opened his mouth to speak, he found that he couldn’t bear to meet her eye. Instead, he kept his gaze firmly on his clasped hands, watching how they trembled perceptibly.

“I wasn’t…the easiest man to be around,” he started softly. “I married Vera when I was young. I thought I loved her. I probably did, at the beginning. But then I got called away to war, and it was very different to what I had imagined. I came home injured, as you already know.”

“Saving Lord Grantham.”

“Yes. But the war had affected me in more ways than one. I was angry at the world, and more than a little shaken up by the things that I had seen. So I started to drink more.”

He glanced up, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

\-- --

Anna could scarcely imagine what it must have been like to witness those things first hand. She had just begun her time at Downton when the African War had ended, and she vividly remembered sitting at the servants’ hall table with the footmen, peering over their shoulders as they read about the atrocities that had been reported. Women and young children starving to death, their bodies wracked by terrible diseases. It had troubled her young dreams for some nights. She could hardly imagine how it must be to be haunted by the real, vivid images of emaciated bodies and skeletal faces. She shuddered.

Mr. Bates’ lips were twisted in a bitter quirk. “I drank far too much. And then I became dependent on it. It numbed the pain and helped me to forget. But it damaged other aspects of my life beyond repair.”

His life with his wife. She hadn’t been able to cope with the man that he’d become.

“I neglected everything,” he continued, and the pain in his eyes was raw. “I couldn’t get a job. I was waking up in strange places. I discovered that Vera had had a number of affairs while I was away, and she was continuing on with them. Things deteriorated further. We couldn’t stand to be around each other. We fought constantly, and bitterly. It was a never-ending cycle.”

Anna wasn’t sure if she felt hot or cold. She was shivering all over. Her ears were buzzing with the deadly wings of a thousand wasps. “And did you ever…?”

She couldn’t finish her sentence, but Mr. Bates seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

“God, no,” he exclaimed. “As much as my word is worth, I swear that I never once hit her.”

Strangely, she believed him, despite the awful thought that it wouldn’t have been too far a stretch. His eyes had not lost their sincerity. She nodded for him to continue.

He did so, taking a deep breath. “She was working odd jobs where she could. She sometimes waited tables at army dinners. And one night…she stole the regimental silver.”

“What?” Anna gasped.

Mr. Bates sighed heavily. “I don’t blame her. I was a useless excuse for a husband. We needed money, and she’d thought of a way to get it. But the army caught up with her before she could sell it on.”

“So that’s where she is now? In prison?” Had Mr. Bates truly abandoned her? Had he really left her alone in England while he fled to America?

Mr. Bates shook his head. “I have no idea where she is.”

“But—”

“Vera never went to prison for theft.”

“I don’t understand—”

“I went instead of her.”

_“What?”_ she gasped again.

Mr. Bates looked haggard. “I was at home when the police came calling. Vera was not. I’d been drinking again and I was still drunk when I opened the door. And the reality of our situation hit me as I listened to them searching the house. They found the silver…and I knew that I had to confess.”

“You confessed to a crime that you hadn’t committed?”

“It was down to me that Vera had felt like she had to steal.”

“So _you_ went to prison instead?”

“I did. I served two years, because not everyone believed me.”

“And your wife?” Anna’s voice was decidedly wobbly.

“She never wrote to me. And she never visited. That’s why I have no idea where she is.”

Anna kept quiet while she digested this latest revelation. It was all too much to take in in such a short space of time. Mr. Bates had been a drunkard. He sounded as if he’d been a completely different man to the one sitting across from her.

“It was hard work,” said Mr. Bates quietly, as though he could read her thoughts. “Prison helped me to see the error of my ways. It forced me to stop drinking, and I haven’t touched a drop since. I’m a completely different man to the one that I was before. I suppose that that’s the only consolation. I worked odd jobs where I could when I was released, but a lot of places want references.”

“So you decided to go to America?”

“My mother made the decision for me. The ticket was her gift to me. Start a new life, she said. And that’s what I want to do.”

Silence reigned in the aftermath of Mr. Bates’ words. Anna clasped her hands loosely in her lap, unsure of what to say or do. Just how was she supposed to formulate an adequate response to everything that she’d been told? It was impossible.

“That’s the end of my story,” said Mr. Bates self-consciously. “Thank you for taking the time to listen to me. I appreciate that, no matter the outcome.”

Anna nodded dumbly. Why was it so difficult, trying to think of something to say?

In the end, the only thing she could think to say was, “I need some time to take all of this in.”

Rather than looking disappointed, Mr. Bates smiled just slightly in understanding. “Of course. I know it’s a lot to absorb. Allow me to escort you back to the door.”

Anna nodded again, rising unsteadily to her feet. Mr. Bates took his cane in hand, and she followed closely behind him as he weaved his way through the body of people. Now she was even more aware of him, the breath leaving him quietly, the heat he was emanating, his towering height and the breadth of his shoulders. She shivered slightly, and was glad when they emerged back outside, because it instantly cooled her down. They continued on in silence, Mr. Bates’ cane clicking against the floor as usual, and eventually they came to a rest.

“So this is me,” she said stupidly.

“Yes.”

Neither of them moved for a moment as their eyes slowly met. Mr. Bates’ were so dark that they almost took her breath away. They were standing rather close.

“I’m glad I came down here tonight,” she said at length. “I would never have known the truth if I hadn’t.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the smile that broke across his face. His eyes were crinkling. It was a look that suited him immensely.

“I’m glad you came too,” he said simply. “It means a lot to me.”

She had no reply for that. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have thought twice about dismissing the letter and never thinking about it again. But there was something about Mr. Bates that intrigued her. And although she had been hurt and angry at the idea that he could simply use her at will right up until a quarter of an hour ago, she couldn’t help her other feelings. She liked him, and that was that. That was why it had hurt so much in the first place.

“I know it sounds pushy, but do you think there’s at least a chance that you and I could stay in contact?”

His words lingered in the air between them. He looked a little surprised at his own audacity, and hastened to add something else, stumbling over his words, but she giggled softly despite herself and held up her hand. He stopped short at once.

“Like I said, I need some time to get to terms with it,” she said, “but I promise that I’ll get in touch.”

Her words seemed to placate him. Evidently, he trusted her too.

“Very well, then. Goodnight, Anna.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Bates.”

He opened the door; she slipped through it. She glanced back at him from over the threshold and smiled tentatively. He returned it. Her heart skipped a beat, and before her head could catch up with it, she was opening her mouth and speaking.

“Come to the Sunday service tomorrow morning. Please.”

Mr. Bates clearly hadn’t expected that, for his eyes widened. Anna felt her cheeks heating inexplicably, but she held his gaze. She realised that she _did_ want him to come, despite everything.

“I-I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” he stammered. His eyes flickered down to his cane, and she knew what he was thinking.

“Nobody will say anything, I promise. And his lordship really is eager to see you again.”

He sighed, looking torn.

“Please, Mr. Bates. _I_ want to see you again.”

They seemed to be the magic words. His face expression relaxed once more, and he smiled at her more confidently.

“All right, then,” he said. “If you want.”

She nodded, feeling unexplainable relief flood through her body. “Good. The service will be at ten. It’ll be in the dining saloon.”

“I’ll be there, I promise.”

She noticed how sincere his eyes were again, and knew that he would stick to his word. Content, she turned away from him properly this time, preparing to make her way back to her room. She didn’t glance back any more, but she knew that he was still staring after her—she could feel his gaze burning her back. It was somewhat reassuring.

\-- --

When she had turned the corner and disappeared, John released the breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Relief beyond anything that he’d ever felt before filled up his entire body. Anna was prepared to see him again. Moreover, _she’d_ instigated it. He wasn’t sure why or how she’d become so important to him in such a small space of time, but he wasn’t going to fight it this time. He had fought things for too long. Somehow, he knew that Anna would be a friend like no other, if only for a few days more.

Even as a man with a complete lack of faith in the church and in God, he was looking forward to tomorrow immensely.

\-- --

_22:05_

She was in second class now, and nearing her destination. This whole evening had been almost unbelievable. She didn’t quite feel as if she was in her own body, viewing everything from the outside. The things that she had heard were mind-boggling. Mr. Bates, a former alcoholic. Mr. Bates, a former prisoner. Mr. Bates, with a marriage that wasn’t quite what met the eye. It was all so improbable, and yet it was true.

So preoccupied with her thoughts was she, that she almost careened straight into the side of a handsome duo.

“I’m so sorry—” she started to apologise, but she was stopped dead by the woman’s icy stare and the man’s air of imperiousness.

“Watch where you’re going,” the woman spat.

“These commoners are savage,” the man sneered. “How can you even afford to be here? Come on, my dear.”

The duo walked away with nary a backwards glance, but Anna couldn’t find it within herself to be too angry and indignant over the pair’s rudeness.

Because her head was still spinning with the things that she had learned.

In reality, she was now ashamed of the way that she had treated Mr. Bates over the last day. She had known that there was something intriguing about him that first time she had met him. He had never been less than a complete gentleman, treating her with friendly kindness. There had never been any leering comments, and he had been disgusted on behalf of the men that he had sat with two nights before. How had she even thought that he could be anything less than he was?

She had been so, so wrong about him.

She was glad that he had accepted her invitation of coming to the service tomorrow morning, especially when he hadn’t accepted the same offer from his lordship. It made her glow internally to think that her friendship meant that much to him. She had to find a way to make up for her poor behaviour. There had to be something that she could do.

She promised herself that she would think of something. Somehow.

\-- --

_22:10_

John had decided to go straight back to his room when he had watched Anna slip through the door. He was more drained than he cared to admit; he had never talked about his past so openly before. It was a mark of shame that he would carry with him forever, a cause of utter humiliation. While on one level he felt absolutely mortified that he had admitted his sins to a woman he barely knew, he felt better for it. Cleansed. She had sat before him and passed not one judgement on him. She had not got up and walked away during any part of his story as he had expected her to—as he wouldn’t have blamed her for. Instead, she had listened intently. And she still wanted to see him. It was incredible. _She_ was incredible.

He had changed into his night things now, and slid between the sheets of his little bunk. He doubted that he’d get any sleep—his roommates were yet to come back, and they didn’t have a reputation for being quiet—and even so, his mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Anna. He could scarcely believe that someone like her—beautiful, innocent, whole—wanted to spend time with him. She made him feel like he hadn’t felt in years. Alive.

It was everything about her, he thought distractedly. Her blinding smile. Her infectious laughter. Her honesty and genuineness. The shine of her hair. The way her blue eyes danced. And she was incredibly beautiful. He knew that nothing could come of it, but he could still think it.

Perhaps a change in fortune really was coming his way.

\-- --

_11:00_

Lady Mary had taken longer than usual to get ready for bed that evening. Sullen and surly, she had grumbled at length about the way that Mr. Patrick had attempted to take hold of her arm on their night-time turn around the deck.

_“I mean, honestly,”_ she’d complained. _“This engagement won’t be official until we reach America. Why does he insist on doing that?”_

Privately, Anna thought that Mr. Patrick was very brave for tackling Lady Mary at all. It couldn’t be easy, to be engaged to someone who was more likely to scowl than smile at him. This whining had continued right through to the very second that she was dismissed for the night, and it was with more than a little relief that she’d dipped out of the room. Now that she was in her own room again, she found that her thoughts could drift back to wherever she wanted them to go, without Lady Mary’s grousing in her ear.

Inevitably, they could only go as far as one man.

Mr. Bates.

Her thoughts were more personal than she’d anticipated. Recollections of his kind smile and the sincerity in his gaze, and the way that his eyes had crinkled when she had told him that she would like to see him again. It had been a very nice expression on his face.

“What the bloody hell are _you_ mooning about?” snapped Miss O’Brien as she slouched into the room, face set in its usual frown.

“I’m not mooning,” she said, though she could feel her cheeks beginning to burn. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, you’re sitting there with a vacant smile on your face. Were you thinking about that horrendous man again?”

“No,” she said quickly. “And he’s not horrendous.”

“He sent you a letter today. I’d say that was rather horrendous. What kind of man pursues a woman in such a fashion?”

“How do you know the letter was from him?”

“Who else would be sending _you_ mail out here?”

Anna closed her mouth. She had no answer to that.

“So what did he want?”

Anna pulled back the covers on her little bed, slipping between them. “I don’t think that that’s any of your business, Miss O’Brien. Goodnight.”

Miss O’Brien snorted loudly, then began to collect her own nightclothes together. Anna rolled onto her side so that she was facing the wall, pretending to settle down to sleep. She knew that she wouldn’t be getting much of that any time soon. Miss O’Brien could think what she liked. She knew the whole truth now. And she wanted to know more about the man he was now. Already her stomach was fluttering at the thought of seeing that crinkled smile again.

She was very much looking forward to the morning.


	9. Finding Faith

_ 9\. Finding Faith _

She was lying in bed, but she wasn’t alone. There was a wonderful warm, heavy presence beside her.

Anna sat up a little, peering into the darkness. She could feel the heat of the duvet against her skin, silky and smooth. She had never been naked between the sheets of a bed before. It was a foreign concept, but she liked it.

The presence beside her was moving, shifting, rising.

“Anna, are you all right?”

It was Mr. Bates.

At the sound of his voice, she shivered, pressing herself closer to him. There was no embarrassment in her movements. It was with a thrill then that she realised that he was also naked. In her bed. His skin was heated, and her fingers skimmed over his chest, feeling him quiver beneath her touch.

“I’m perfectly all right,” she breathed, knowing that to speak any louder would be to break the spell. “You know what I need.”

Evidently, he did, for Mr. Bates was shifting beside her. The sheets were completely off now. Her eyes drifted down. Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, good God.

And then he was over her. His hands were against her naked sides. Heat shot through her. His head moved down to hers. She was angling hers up.

He was kissing her.

And she was kissing him.

It was a blur. She could feel his fingers dancing up. They caught the swell of her breasts. She gasped. And then they were darting down. Her back arched. Her fingers clutched at the mess of bed sheets beneath her. She was aware of mewling like a little kitten. His eyes were hot on her face, earnest and serious.

It was the most intense pleasure of her life.

And then he was shifting again. His chest pressed deliciously against hers. Her hands splayed against his back. He was sweating a little. She could smell them on the air. He was kissing her again. He was everywhere. He was sinking between her thighs.

\-- --

_Sunday 14th April, 1912, 01:45_

“Bleedin’ Christ, Anna, would you stop thrashing about!?”

She awoke with a start, trapped in sweaty sheets. Lashing around for a few more seconds, she struggled into a sitting position, disorientated and confused. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute in her chest. She was shivering as if she’d caught a high fever. What in the name of God had just happened…?

Across from her, Miss O’Brien was sitting up, looking tired and irate.

“What happened?” Anna slurred.

“How the bloody hell should I know? A nightmare, by the way that you were groaning and flailing.”

Anna felt herself flush the darkest red that she’d ever flushed in her life, glad that the darkness was covering her face.

“Do you think you’re going to allow me to sleep now?” said Miss O’Brien grumpily.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Miss O’Brien.”

A derisive snort, and the lady’s maid settled back down, turning to face the wall on her side. Heart still hammering in her chest, Anna mirrored her movements, trying to stop the reflexive shivering.

Had she really…had that been…?

Yes, it had been. There was no way around it.

The first erotic dream of her life.

Her heart didn’t want to calm, and she squeezed her eyes tightly closed, praying for things to return to normal. But they wouldn’t. She could see the two of them behind her closed lids, the way that they had been wrapped around each other, the sheets of the bed gathering at the crook of Mr. Bates’ knees, his body surrounding hers. Good God, she could almost _feel_ his weight against her, softly crushing her in the most pleasurable way possible, his presence between her legs…

Her eyes snapped open at once. Her body thrummed. She was aware of a slickness between her thighs. She wanted to sob. Sweat stood against her forehead and made her nightgown stick to her uncomfortably.

Her first erotic dream.

Why? What had brought it on? There had never been any inkling that one might surface, and she had certainly never even thought that Mr. Bates could be the subject. She barely knew him. There were lots of men that she’d known for years, and not once had any of them entered her dreams in such a way. What was so special about Mr. Bates?

No, thinking like that was only going to bring trouble for her. There was no need to spend time trying to figure anything out. It meant nothing. It had been a dream. A rather unexpected one, but a harmless one all the same. Just because she had imagined him like…_that_, it didn’t mean it meant anything.

It _couldn’t_ mean anything.

Anna groaned silently to herself, and pulled the thin sheets over her head. Miss O’Brien was snoring now, a rather distracting sound. Anna hoped that she’d be able to sleep again. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her that she had hours until she needed to be up. The last thing she needed was to be kept awake by both Miss O’Brien’s snores and her own troubled mind. She needed her sleep. It would help her to gain perspective. Things always looked better in the morning…or less confusing, at the very least. Her mother had said that daylight always helped to illuminate the solution to a problem, and Anna was sure that it would continue to ring true for her now.

The dream had meant _nothing_. It was just something that she had had no conscious control over.

Still, somewhere in the back of Anna’s mind, she thought that she could be in for a troubled night no matter what she tried to tell herself.

\-- --

_06:30_

Anna awoke to the sound of Miss O’Brien moving around the small cabin. Mumbling groggily, she struggled upright, blinking hard to dispel the blurred edges of her vision. Noticing that she was finally awake, the lady’s maid turned a sneer on her.

“No more bad dreams, then?” she asked.

“None whatsoever,” she replied, resolved not to seem rattled. Besides, that was the truth. She hadn’t dreamt again after her disturbing dream in the early hours.

And could that really be classed as a bad dream? It had felt good.

She shook her head vigorously, springing out of bed as if she’d been burned. That was not the route to go down. Just what was wrong with her? She had never had such thoughts before. It was frightening her a little.

Determined to put everything out of her mind, she went about collecting her own clothes, slipping into her dress and then straightening her bed sheets as Miss O’Brien gathered her hair things together.

When they were both ready, they headed to breakfast. Thomas was already sitting at one of the tables, and Miss O’Brien made a beeline for him, Anna following behind reluctantly. She didn’t want to sit with the two of them, but her absence from the hall most nights had led to a certain lack in communication with the other maids and footmen and valets who were travelling to the New World together. It wasn’t that Anna found it difficult to mix with people—she didn’t, thriving on socialising with others—but she still felt a little out of place in a world that seemed even stricter than the one she served. Normally she would be quite content to sit on her own, but she didn’t trust herself to. Her thoughts needed to be firmly away from her dream. So she sat silently across from Thomas and Miss O’Brien, who ignored her the whole time, talking together in low voices and communicating with the raising of eyebrows and the quirking of lips, as though it was a secret code that couldn’t be cracked by anyone else. Anna didn’t much care. She picked listlessly at her breakfast, her ploy sadly failing as her mind drifted back towards the other man. She was struck with a sudden sickening thought as she sat there. In all of her confusion, she had completely forgotten that today was Sunday. And she’d asked him to the church ceremony. He would come to her. But how was she supposed to look at him now, when she had dreamt such things? How could she look him in the eye and smile when she had imagined him naked?

Everything was falling out of her control, and she hated it.

Still, a treacherous part of her mind wondered if she had ever been in control in the first place.

\-- --

_08:30_

Before she knew it, breakfast was over and she was dressing Lady Mary. She worked quietly, restless at the way that Lady Mary’s eyes followed her every movement. It was making it harder for her to concentrate, and she buttoned her dress wrong twice because of it.

“Anna, you’re beginning to worry me,” she commented when she failed to pin her hair up correctly for the third time. “Are you sure that you’re all right? You’ve been acting strangely ever since hearing about that Mr. Bates.”

“I’m fine, milady, honest,” she said quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when she managed to pin the clip in place.

“Are you completely sure? Only, I know his lordship…”

_His lordship._ At the sound of her employer’s name, Anna’s eyes widened. Oh, God. In all of her initial excitement that Mr. Bates had reconsidered his decision of not coming to the service in first class, she had forgotten completely about mentioning it to his lordship. She would have to tell him this morning, before Mr. Bates made his arrival. It wouldn’t be fair to have him completely in the dark, and it wouldn’t look good on her if she didn’t tell him the truth.

“Anna?” Lady Mary had stopped talking, evidently noticing her reaction.

She shook her head, composing herself. “Milady, do you think it would be possible for me to speak to his lordship as soon as I’ve done dressing you?”

“I suppose so,” she sighed. “But why now?”

She would find out the truth in only a few hours, so Anna decided to be honest. “It’s about Mr. Bates. He’s changed his mind about the service, and will be attending after all.”

“What? When did this happen?”

“Last night.”

“Last night?” Lady Mary’s eyebrows rose further. “Is that what you wanted Papa for yesterday? You wanted to talk to him about this fellow?”

“Something like that, yes, milady.”

“But…how did it come about?”

Anna bit her lip. “Well, I saw him again.”

_“Again?”_ There was something very disapproving about Lady Mary’s tone. Anna felt herself bristle, and fought to remain composed.

“Yes, milady,” she said.

“Surely that wasn’t wise?”

“It was important, milady. And there wasn’t any untoward behaviour, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said, though she looked uncomfortable at the fact that she had insinuated such a thing. “So what did he want?”

“To explain some things.”

“And those might be…?”

“I can’t say, milady. I can’t betray a confidence.”

Lady Mary sighed again, picking up a hairpin to inspect. “Yes, of course.”

Anna knew that the eldest daughter wouldn’t push it any further now that she had spoken out in such a way. Anna had been privy to many things during her time serving as Lady Mary’s maid, and she had never breathed a word about anything to anyone. Lady Mary knew that and appreciated it, and was obviously remembering the same thing now.

“Will that be all, milady?”

“I think so, yes. I’ll see you at the service, I should imagine.”

“You will. Thank you, milady.”

Lady Mary barely seemed to notice her, and she slipped out of the room. There were butterflies in her stomach.

She had to see Lord Grantham.

\-- --

_09:00_

It was a relief to find Lady Grantham absent when she stepped into Lord Grantham’s quarters. He was just adjusting his tie when she entered after his distracted admission, and her heart leapt to find Thomas absent too. That would make her topic much easier to broach.

“Ah, Anna!” he said kindly when he spied her through the looking glass, turning around with a welcoming smile. “What can I do for you this morning?”

“I’ve come to talk to you about last night, milord,” she said, twisting her hands together.

“Oh, yes, of course! I’d forgotten all about that. How is Bates?”

“He’s very well, milord.”

“That’s good to hear. So, tell me, what was the big mystery of the letter he sent you?”

Anna didn’t want to reveal the intimate nature of their conversation. She knew that it would be disloyal to do so, especially when Mr. Bates had chosen to share things with her that he’d never shared with another person. So she decided to get straight to the point of the conversation.

“Well,” she said, “Mr. Bates has changed his mind about coming to the service today. If you’re still agreeable, then he would like to take you up on that offer after all.”

“What?” Lord Grantham exclaimed. “Really?”

Anna nodded.

“Well, how splendid! Yes, he’s certainly most welcome. I would enjoy saying hello to an old comrade in arms. Will you have enough time to tell him that the offer is still there for him?”

She chose not to mention that he would have been coming up regardless of his answer. “Yes, milord. I’ll sort it now.”

“Excellent. I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”

“And he you, milord. Thank you.”

Feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest, Anna slipped back out of the room. It wouldn’t be long at all before she and Mr. Bates came face to face once more. Her stomach fluttered wildly. Her fingers danced together. She could feel her cheeks heating a little.

Soon.

\-- --

_09:50_

“What on earth are you doing, Bates?”

John gritted his teeth, closing his eyes briefly as he tried to adjust his hair. It wasn’t helping that he had an audience, the men in his cabin preferring to linger in interest rather than pursue whatever it was that occupied them during the day. It was George who had spoken, the youngest showing no fear as he prodded for the answer.

“I’m going out,” said John.

“Dressed up like that? Where is there to go around here?”

“Who says it is round here?”

“That’s the answer then, lads! It’s not round here!” crowed Samuel.

“So where about is it?” asked George. “Can we tag along too?”

“It’s nowhere you know,” said John. He wondered if he’d put too much pomade in his hair. “And it’s by invitation only.”

“But who do you know to invite you anywhere?” asked Harry. “We’re the only people you’ve socialised with.”

“We’re not though!” exclaimed Timothy. “He knows that woman too! What was her name again?”

“You mean the pretty blonde?” said George. “I forgot about her. Is it her, Bates? Is she the one who’s asked you somewhere? You’d be a fool to say no to that!”

“And he quite clearly _hasn’t_ said no if he’s dressing himself up so nicely!”

“It makes sense. We only make an effort for pretty lasses.”

John clenched his eyes tighter. He hated this, being scrutinised and openly discussed as though he wasn’t even present. He hated the fact that the other men were talking about it so jovially, belittling it, making it sound sordid when it was anything but. He didn’t think it was a crime to want to make a good impression on the Lord Grantham and his family. No doubt many people would already be disdainful at the thought of his arrival. It would be no good to antagonise them further on first sight. Moving his hands to his tie, he straightened the knot meticulously, then decided his hair would just have to do. He was almost ready now. A quick glance at his pocket watch told him that he had twenty minutes to spare. Damn. He was cutting it finer than he’d initially realised.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, taking hold of his cane and pushing past the others.

“To meet your lady friend? Be careful, Bates.” said George, and the others sniggered. “Don’t be too rough with her.”

He wouldn’t rise to it, even if he knew that Anna was a lady and deserved being treated with respect, not as if she was some cheap tart. He was trying to keep his temper now, and he knew that Anna wouldn’t thank him for losing control of it for her sake. So instead he kept silent, holding his head high, marching out of the room.

People could say what they liked. But he was going to see Anna, and it was making his heart feel lighter than it had in years.

Perhaps she would help him to find his faith today, he thought with a touch of amusement. It had been a long time since he’d prayed.

Perhaps some good could come out of his sins after all.

\-- --

_10:05_

Anna waited nervously by the doors. People were already milling around outside the dining saloon, waiting for the doors to be opened, from ladies in their finery to the servants in their more modest clothing. Most of the servants were lingering more towards the back, even now upholding their place as the invisible, watching their own master’s conversations with others’, their presence not even being acknowledged. Anna shifted from foot to foot, chancing a glance around her. There really were a lot of people. If Mr. Bates didn’t hurry, then the doors would open and they wouldn’t get a seat—

“Hello, Anna.”

She actually squeaked aloud in surprise, whirling around as quickly as she could, heart almost beating out of her chest. There he was, standing before her. A sight for sore eyes.

“Mr. Bates,” she said breathlessly, her gaze darting over his form.

He was smiling at her gently. The crinkles around his eyes were back, and her heart stuttered in her chest. That smile really was beautiful.

“I almost thought you weren’t coming,” she said when she’d found her voice.

“I know, I’m sorry if I’m late. There was a bit of a hold-up downstairs. The stewards were reluctant to let me pass.”

“They didn’t believe you?” Anna felt a stab of guilt as soon as she issued the words. She herself had not believed him at first. Was that a common occurrence, even in his new life?

Mr. Bates shrugged. “Well, I’m here now. How do I look? I want to make a good impression on his lordship, but I’m afraid that this is the best I could come up with.”

Oh dear, what a question to ask her, especially when she had such thoughts in her head. All at once, as she looked upon him, she was reminded of the dream that she’d had. _She’d had him naked._ Her cheeks began to heat up immediately, her teeth sinking into her lip. She wondered if he looked much different beneath those layers than he did in the picture that she held in her head.

“What’s the matter?” he joked. “Have I got it completely wrong? I knew I should have gone with the other suit—”

“You look fine,” she said quickly, feeling her cheeks fill with even more heat. There was not a grain of a lie in there. He looked _more_ than fine. His hair was slicked back, but not quite as tight as usual. It made him look younger. She liked it. His face was clean-shaven, and she could detect the tiniest hint of eau de cologne. It made her head swim. Slowly, she reached out to brush a crease from his arm.

“Bates, my dear fellow!”

She pulled away from him as though he’d burned her, hoping that she didn’t look too guilty. However, Lord Grantham barely acknowledged her beyond a quick nod of the head, striding past her with his arm outstretched. Mr. Bates took a moment to hook his cane over his arm and reached out his own hand. Lord Grantham’s eyes flickered for a moment over the stick and then over his leg, before fixing a large smile in place.

“This is simply marvellous,” he said breathlessly, his firm shake enthusiastic. “I’m almost speechless. Our paths crossing here…it’s almost impossible!”

“Indeed, sir,” he murmured in return. Anna was suddenly struck by how they must have looked standing together in Africa, young men taking on the world. It felt almost wrong to intrude upon the moment. But then Lord Grantham was pulling away with a wide smile, his arm sweeping behind him to gesture at his family.

“This is Lady Grantham,” he said. “And this is my eldest, Lady Mary.”

“I remember. Pleasure to meet you, my ladies,” murmured Mr. Bates. Both the women nodded at him unsmilingly, gazes sweeping across him. Anna didn’t like how calculating those looks were.

“And this is my cousin, Mr. Crawley,” continued Lord Grantham, oblivious. “And his son, Mr. Patrick.”

Mr. Bates bowed his head respectfully towards each in turn. They returned the gesture.

“When Anna told me the news, I could hardly believe my ears. How has the world been treating you, Bates?”

“It’s had its up and downs, sir. Milord.”

Lord Grantham smiled at Mr. Bates’ slip. Lady Mary simply looked horrified.

Anna chanced a glance around her. They were garnering a lot of attention from several snooty-looking lords and ladies, who were no doubt wondering why a common man was walking amongst them. No doubt it would be the topic of appalled gossip for the rest of the day. Lord Grantham’s name would be notorious. Still, he didn’t seem to mind in the least. He was standing there quite happily, chatting to his former batman about a number of trivial things, heedless of his family

Anna noted the slightly uncomfortable expression on Mr. Bates’ face—his eyebrows were scrunched just slightly—and let her gaze wander around the room again, not wanting to seem as if she was being too nosy. In the corner, she spied Thomas and Miss O’Brien. They were sizing Mr. Bates up from afar, sour looks on their faces. Anna looked away quickly.

Her eyes, inevitably, fell back to Mr. Bates. He was smiling slightly now, nodding. His lordship must have said something to alleviate his apprehension. Now he was completely at ease, his stance firm and confident despite his cane. And despite Lord Grantham’s initial misstep, he was now keeping his gaze firmly on his face, not giving Mr. Bates’ injury a second glance. If only the same could be said of everyone else, Anna thought as she noted the others’ disapproving expressions.

“I thought your wife might have accompanied you,” said Lord Grantham, drawing Anna back to the present moment. She froze. Beside her, so did Mr. Bates.

“My wife?” he stammered.

“Yes. I remember you mentioning her when we served in Africa.”

Anna could only be thankful that the other members of Lord Grantham’s family had grown bored with this particular oddity, and had drifted into their own conversations. Mr. Bates cleared his throat awkwardly.

“My wife isn’t here with me,” he said. “In fact, we’re separated. We’ve been separated for a few years now. Truth be told, I don’t even know where she is. That’s why I’m travelling to America. To begin a new life.”

Lord Grantham looked horrified at having unearthed that particular can of worms. “I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“And why should you?”

There was an awkward pause, but at that moment, the doors to the first class dining saloon opened, and the captain of the _Titanic_, Captain Smith, stepped out. The people fell silent at once, turning to look at him.

“You may enter now,” he said in a quiet voice, and the people began to move forward, including Lord Grantham’s family. He clapped Mr. Bates on the shoulders merrily.

“I’ll try and catch you after the service,” he said, before disappearing after his family.

Anna lingered by his side, stepping closer as people jostled around her. Mr. Bates glanced down at her, sending a smile her way.

“How was that?” she asked him.

“Surreal,” he chuckled. “I think it’s going to take a while to sink in.”

“But it was nice?” she ventured.

He bent his head to catch her eye. “It was more than nice.”

Anna’s insides fluttered. She glanced away, her hands fidgeting.

“Shall we go inside?” she managed to squeak.

“Let’s sit near the back,” he murmured. “I’ll feel less like a circus specimen that way.”

She nodded, and followed him on shaky legs, watching as he managed to slip onto the back row. She followed him, stumbling a little on the leg of the chair in front. Mr. Bates shot her an amused look, and she felt her cheeks burn. Quickly, she sank into her seat, only to have to stand again as the captain passed. She kept her eyes trained firmly ahead, watching his progress down the aisle, all too aware of Mr. Bates’ presence beside her.

“Thank you,” said Captain Smith. “Now, let us begin.”

There were a few moments of scuffle as everyone settled themselves back down. Mr. Bates’ arm brushed against hers as he shifted. Her breath caught. The ceremony began, but for the first time in her life, she couldn’t concentrate on the words that were being spoken. They were simply a buzz in the back of her mind.

Mr. Bates was here. He was sitting beside her. His earnest brown eyes were fixed on Captain Smith. He looked so calm. She caught her lip between her teeth. Her fingers laced. She could smell his cologne again, a clean, fresh smell. It cut a stark contrast to the way he had smelled in her dream, of sweat and love’s touch. She could still smell that so vividly too, and it only made her blush harder. There was a part of her that didn’t _want_ to let it go. She had never felt this way about anyone before. It was so confusing, terrifying, exciting. It made her body sing.

The captain was saying something about sins. Somehow, it seemed less important to her. She fidgeted a little. Mr. Bates’ thigh was almost pressed against hers. He was a big man, and the space was small, and he filled it so beautifully.

The rest of the service passed in a blur. Anna could barely hear Captain Smith anymore. His voice was a low drone, like a bee’s wings. All the while, Mr. Bates kept his eyes trained firmly ahead, as if there was nothing in the whole world more interesting than this. What was he thinking? She couldn’t tell.

“And now for the hymn,” said Captain Smith. The scuffle of people clambering to their feet broke Anna out of her thoughts, and she glanced round wildly at the noise. And then Mr. Bates’ hand rested against her shoulder. His little finger was barely an inch away from where her bare skin started.

_If only…_

“Would you like some help?” he asked her. His voice was husky with the effort of keeping his voice low.

“I’m fine,” she managed quickly. “Thank you.”

He nodded, dropping his hand from her shoulder. She cursed the loss of warmth at once, but stood resolutely as the first notes of the song began.

_“Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm hath bound the restless wave…”_

She suddenly felt very self-conscious about singing. It was something that she enjoyed doing when she was alone, dusting away in one of the rooms; it made time pass more quickly, and it always lifted her spirits. But she had never sung in front of anyone before, not even Gwen. She felt silly and shy, wondering what he thought. She hoped that he didn’t think her too awful.

_“Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea!”_

He himself was singing lowly, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. It was a nice sound; he had a deep baritone, though he was making a point of keeping as quiet as possible. Perhaps he was as self-conscious as she was. Not that he needed to be. She could listen to him for hours, and indeed almost stumbled along the words herself, too busy listening to him verse after verse than paying attention to what she should have been singing.

_“Thus evermore shall rise to Thee, Glad hymns of peace from land and sea!”_

The song came to an end on a lingering final note, and Anna’s breath hitched hearing it loiter in the back of Mr. Bates’ throat. There was a moment of silence, then the captain gestured for everyone to sit once more.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now, in a moment, we shall finish on the Lord’s prayer.”

As she bent her head in prayer, Anna found that she couldn’t concentrate on Captain Smith’s words. Instead, she focused on Mr. Bates’ clasped hands. They were dangling from his lap, the fingers curled loosely around each other. They looked like strong fingers, used to hard work. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to feel them against her skin, before realising that she was drifting back towards dangerous territory. She shouldn’t be thinking like that. With a great effort, she went back to listening to Captain Smith. He had finished now, and a low murmuring of voices rose up, but Anna couldn’t make her mouth form the words. She dropped her head lower to disguise the fact that she wasn’t saying anything, and internally asked God to forgive her impertinence. Mr. Bates shifted beside her. She realised quite suddenly that he wasn’t speaking either. Was he as distracted by her as she was by him? No, that was ridiculous. There was no reason why he would be. She thought about his smile, and she felt flustered suddenly at the way that her heart began to speed up in her chest. What was it trying to tell her? Surely there had to be a reasonable explanation for it? She bit her lip hard and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, blocking out the world.

Except she couldn’t block out the world. It was as though he _was_ the world, filling her every breath. She didn’t understand what had happened to her. She had liked him when she’d first met him. But why had things changed from then?

_Had_ things changed? Or had she misdiagnosed what she’d initially felt? It was too much to think about.

\-- --

John himself was no less confused by Anna. He sat perfectly still by her side, staring sightlessly at his hands, chin dropped against his chest. He had had too much difficulty concentrating in church over the years because he just did not share in with the beliefs, but today it was even harder. He had never had a distraction like Anna beside him before.

The congregation was still droning the Lord’s prayer, but he could barely make out a word. All he could hear were the soft breaths that Anna was taking beside him. Briefly, he wondered what she sounded like when she was sleeping, whether she breathed as softly then, before catching his thoughts with a fierceness that surprised him.

_Don’t go there, Bates. You **can’t**._

No, he couldn’t. Or at least he shouldn’t. But his mind was proving to be more unruly than he’d given it credit for, and as Anna’s gentle scent filled his head with sweet dizziness, he let go, drifting away on his thoughts. Of her hands, so small and slender, of the way they would feel enveloped in his. Of her hair, how silky it surely had to be, and how it would feel between his fingers. Of the softness of her skin, especially her lips—

_Too far._ He forced himself back to the present just as the echo of _Amen_ rang around the room. After a moment, the captain began to dismiss them, and they rose in unison. His eyes were on Anna at once, and his breath caught in his throat at the realisation that she had turned to look at him at exactly the same moment. Her blue eyes were blinding, and he found himself caught on the spot. It wasn’t until he felt a sharp elbow in his ribs from the irate man beside him that the spell was broken, and he looked away from her as a line began to filter out of the door. Anna blinked and slowly turned away; he felt a pang in his chest at that. For the moment, they were stuck together at the back, but the moment seemed to be lost now, for Anna was more focused on waiting for a gap to slip through. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her back, though, the strong, delicate planes of her shoulder blades, the elegant curve of her neck. It was an electric shock to the system, her posture. He was so absorbed with watching her that he didn’t recognise that she had spotted an opportunity to slip into the crowd—until it was too late. When she realised that he wasn’t following directly behind her, she twisted around to him, holding everyone up behind her, and he had less than a split-second to register that she was intending to reach out for him before her fingers closed around his wrist. At once his skin began to tingle and burn, and he heard her breath catch. She pulled him forward and he responded mechanically, but his mind had gone blank. All he could focus on was how dainty and slim her fingers were. How strength still rippled from her grip. There was the tiniest of rips in her glove. He could feel the minutest tip of her bare forefinger against his pulse point. He almost stumbled out of the door as he felt her move unconsciously. He was sure that it had quickened tenfold.

And then the spell was over, and they were standing in the corridor. The crowds were thinning, and Anna stepped back from him, a frown creasing her forehead as she turned to face him again.

“Mr. Bates?” she asked cautiously. “Are you all right? You look…a little flushed.”

“I’m fine,” he managed. His voice was unsteady. His skin was still tingling.

For a moment, they stood silent to one side, watching as the rest of the people who had been in the service departed. Lord Grantham emerged from the saloon, his wife by his side. A smile broke out across his face as soon as he saw John, and he began to make his way over.

“How did you find it?” he asked.

“Wonderful, milord,” John managed. He hoped his voice sounded more neutral. Apparently he hadn’t been as successful as he wanted, for Lord Grantham gave him an odd look. Thankfully, he didn’t comment.

“Well, I’m very glad that I’ve had this opportunity to greet an old comrade in arms. Perhaps we can see each other when we reach the New World.”

“I’d like that, milord. Thank you.”

Lord Grantham nodded, smiled, then led his silent family away.

“You should get going,” John murmured to Anna, who was still lingering by his side.

“I know.”

“The others are watching.”

Anna chanced a glance to the side. Two servants—probably the two awful servants Anna had mentioned that she was stuck travelling with—were loitering, shooting them disgusted looks. They were clearly trying to eavesdrop. Anna tightened her mouth in a firm line.

“I know,” she repeated. “I don’t care.”

There was a warm glow in his chest. How could such a simply statement make him feel such a way? But he _shouldn’t_ be feeling it. It was wrong. He was _married_, for Christ’s sake. She was a young, innocent woman. They would be parted in a few days. It was hopeless.

“Mr. Bates?”

The sound of her voice broke through his thoughts and he blinked, looking down at her. She was biting at her lip, her eyes uncertain.

“What is it?” he asked her in concern, feeling his heart falter in his chest.

She heaved a great sigh, twisting her hands together. Now, however, her eyes were determined. “I have to see you again.”

The air left his world. _“What?”_

Her eyes burned brighter. “You heard me.”

“You can’t.” The words were out of his mouth before he realised it, but her gaze didn’t falter, not even for a second. It filled him with pride and despair all in one swoop.

“I can,” she said. “And I must.”

“Anna—”

“I don’t have time to argue.” Now her voice was low and urgent. “Let me come to you tonight. I’ll be able to get away after dressing Lady Mary for bed. They won’t miss me, I promise.”

“What about _them_?” He knew that she understood who he was referring to.

“I’ll think of something. Just meet me where you did yesterday. Please.”

There were a hundred thousand reasons why he shouldn’t. He could list them all in seconds. He should say no and stop it while he could. And yet there was a part of him that was glad for her strong mind and her steely determination. He was _glad_ that she was forcing him into this.

“All right,” he said. It was barely audible above the thump of the blood in his head.

Her grin was wide and blinding. “Thank you. I’ll see you later. Nine. I won’t be late this time.”

He nodded numbly as she turned away, casting a ferocious glance at the two servants, who didn’t seem the slightest bit deterred. And then all three of them were gone, taking after their employers.

John sighed loudly, finding it impossible to move from that spot.

He had joked with himself that he might find his faith up here in the first class dining saloon.

He hadn’t expected to find his feelings for Anna Smith growing out of control.

\-- --

_11:00_

Back in her room, Anna slumped down on her bed. Her heart still hadn’t slowed down. She could almost feel it rattling her ribcage.

Just what had come over her? What had spurred her on to speak so forcefully in front of Mr. Bates? Where had all of those confusing feelings suddenly sprung from?

Still, try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it even a little. She had always put great trust in her heart’s instincts. They were telling her something now. And she had to act upon it. Somehow, she knew that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t.

Mr. Bates would be there, she knew it. Whatever had happened was in the past. The man she knew was not the man that others had known. She had to grasp the opportunity that had been sent her way with both hands.

Throughout her whole life, her faiths and her beliefs had been important to her. They had helped her to make sense of things that were senseless, and they had helped to keep her steady, treading down the right path. However, not even her faith could compare to the way that Mr. Bates’ smile made her believe that anything was possible.

_Thank God,_ she thought, _thank God for you._


	10. The Calm Before the Storm

_ 10\. The Calm Before the Storm _

_Sunday 14th April, 1912, 22:30_

It had been agony, getting through the day. Each task that she’d needed to complete had seemed laborious, pointless. The minutes had dragged by slower than her whole life. Every glance at the clock had wielded no results. Time simply refused to move. Miss O’Brien and Thomas had taken it in turns to make snide comments about Mr. Bates, from his appearance to his limp, but Anna had not risen to their goading, knowing that it was exactly what they wanted. Instead, she’d bitten her tongue and said nothing, simply continuing on with what she’d been doing. Lady Mary had required little attention, which had left her free to get on quietly with the various jobs that needed completing, ensconcing herself in one of the corners of the servants’ quarters. Lord Grantham hadn’t asked to see her, and she hadn’t needed to see him, but from what she could gather from Lady Mary when she’d dressed her for dinner, his lordship was very pleased with how the meeting had gone, and was still delighted that he’d finally been reunited with a long lost comrade.

“It’s almost embarrassing,” Lady Mary had scoffed, but Anna thought it was nice that his lordship cared so much.

Dinner had taken an eternity, but Lady Mary had been quick to retire to escape her Mr. Patrick, which had suited Anna just fine.

Now, she was waiting for her opportunity to slip below deck. She supposed she could have asked his lordship’s permission, for she had no doubt that it would have been granted, but she didn’t want him getting too many ideas about her eagerness to see his old comrade again. In any case, there was something rather exciting about sneaking around. She had always played strictly by the rules, but it was becoming increasingly clear that when it came to Mr. Bates, she didn’t mind what rules she had to break. She had managed to avoid detection from Miss O’Brien, citing the need to get Lady Mary’s frock fixed before she followed to dinner, before slipping into her best dress. This time, she didn’t try to deny that it was because of a very different reason. She _wanted_ to look nice for him, to catch his attention.

She’d been waiting casually by the railing for twenty minutes already, checking her little pocket watch to give the impression that she was waiting for someone, when her opportunity came. The man staffing the doorway turned when he heard the sound of someone shouting for him. Anna followed his gaze. A second man was walking towards him. Clearly, they were about to switch places.

She stepped forward as soon as the first man’s attention was focused completely on the second. And then she flew towards the door. Dimly, she heard the men yelling indignantly, but the blood was thrumming in her head, and she was too exhilarated to stop. Her fingers fumbled against the lock, and then she was stumbling through the door. The shouting grew louder—they were getting close—and she set off at once, heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t get caught now.

Luckily for her, no one tried to stop her as she raced below deck, and by the time that she reached the door to third class, she had lost her pursuers. Breathing more easily now, she slipped the latch and descended.

As she neared the spot where Mr. Bates had agreed to meet her, her heart began to drumroll anew—this time for a completely different reason. She chewed anxiously on her lip, smoothing her hands down her dress. She hoped she looked presentable. Hopefully her mad dash hadn’t made her look too much of a sweaty fright.

She rounded the corner. And there he was. Her breath caught in her throat, a reaction that was now customary when she saw him. Her hands trembled, and she twisted them together as she slowly approached him. He hadn’t noticed her yet, shifting his weight more firmly onto his good leg, his face as impassive as ever.

“Mr. Bates,” she somehow managed to squeak, and he started a little, turning just slightly so that he was facing her. His face broke out into a smile, those crinkles deepening around his eyes and making her heart skip a beat.

“There you are,” he said teasingly. “I thought you were never coming.”

She giggled at that, coming to a rest beside him. “You know what it’s like getting down here.”

“Putting your sleuth skills to good use?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“I’m sure Sherlock Holmes would be proud of your ability to slip around undetected.”

“I’m not sure that I managed it undetected.”

Mr. Bates’ face clouded. “What?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she was quick to reassure him.

“I still wouldn’t want you to put yourself in any danger just to see me. I would never forgive myself.”

She risked reaching out to squeeze his arm. “Really, Mr. Bates, you’ve nothing to worry about. I made it right as rain. Actually, it was quite exciting, almost getting caught. I felt like a heroine at the climax of the novel.”

“A very pretty heroine,” he said, then faltered. “I mean, I’m not—”

She grinned. “It’s fine, Mr. Bates. Thank you, I’m flattered.” Inside, her heart fluttered. He thought she was pretty. More to stop herself dwelling on things that she shouldn’t, she hooked her arm through his and began leading him down the corridor. “Shall we eat?”

“I see how it is now,” he returned. “You’re not really interested in visiting me. You’re more interested in the exotic cuisine.”

She burst into peals of laughter again, her eyes dancing with mirth. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders now that he had confessed everything to her. It suited him, this lightness. It made her happy to see. He had clearly spent so long suffering under his own judgement that he had come to believe that he deserved nothing else.

_You judged him too,_ a little voice said in her head reproachfully.

Yes, she had. She would always regret that. But she _had_ chosen to see past it, to see the man behind the regrets. One day, in America, she was sure that he would meet someone who would appreciate him in every way. It would be a fresh start.

The thought gave her a heavy feeling in the bottom of her stomach.

She forced a bright smile onto her face, turning to reassure him. At the soft look on his face, she couldn’t stop it from widening genuinely. She couldn’t help it; looking at him gave her an unexplainable bout of joy.

\-- --

John was just as fascinated by the light in Anna’s eyes. He could admit that she was a very beautiful young woman, but she was almost a goddess when her face lit up with joy. He tried not to stare, but it was difficult. She was mesmerising. A few strands of hair had escaped from underneath her hat. They were caressing the back of her neck. John wished that he could brush them away, touching his fingers to her soft skin. But he couldn’t, so he swallowed hard and followed her to the dining hall. It was packed once again with all manner of people, and the noise that they were making all together was almost deafening. It didn’t seem to bother Anna in the slightest, however; she simply grinned wider and led him along, looking for a suitable place to sit. They couldn’t find one as secluded as the one they’d found the previous evening, but that didn’t seem to bother Anna in the slightest. John did the gentlemanly thing and pulled out her chair for her, waiting until she was settled before tapping around to the other side and sliding into the seat opposite her. She leaned forward, eyes dancing. If he wanted to, he could almost believe that this was a date.

He shouldn’t think that way. Because it could never be.

\-- --

“This is much nicer than the servants’ dining hall, I’ll have you know,” Anna said.

Mr. Bates came back to her; for a moment, his eyes had taken on a misty, faraway gleam. “Really? I do find that hard to believe. What about the comforts of first class? Surely it’s nicer than here?”

“The people are so stuffy. There’s no one to talk to, unless you count Thomas and Miss O’Brien. It’s friendly down here.”

“Yes, filled with friendly drunks,” he said, but she knew that he was only teasing.

“What’s on the menu tonight, then?” she asked, ducking her head.

Mr. Bates cleared his throat, peering at the others around them. “Looks like beef.”

“Sounds good to me. When you work in a great house, you have to get used to the endless stews.”

“I know something of that too. Before the war, I served in a great house.”

“You did?”

“I did.” Mr. Bates ducked his head boyishly. “I was first footman. I left to join the army.”

The fact that he’d served as a footman made sense. He had that quiet, dark charisma that was vital to such an exposed position. And he was handsome to boot.

She blushed, tracing a finger over the surface of the table. “Did you enjoy service?”

“I did, for the most part. I was arrogant back then, though, you wouldn’t have liked me.” He flashed her a grin that she felt in the pit of her stomach. “I thought I was destined for greater things. It’s why I left for the army at the first opportunity.”

“You might have done well. A butler perhaps.”

“I fear I was never cut out for that kind of position. I might have been now, if not for my leg.” His eyes had gone distant, melancholy.

“Isn’t there a chance?” Anna ventured. “In America…?”

“The Americans might be more forward thinking, but no one in their right minds would employ a man with such an injury.”

“But surely if—” she started, feeling the urge to defend him, but he overrode her with a gentle shake of his head.

“I would be a liability. I will find something to do. I just don’t know what yet.”

She frowned, but said nothing. She didn’t want him to start worrying—or worse, to think that she was being overbearing and fussy, when she had no right to invade in his personal life.

Thankfully, Mr. Bates suggested that they collect their food, and Anna was grateful for the temporary lull in conversation. He was right about the choice of food: a hearty pile of beef was slapped on her plate, finished off with boiled potatoes and bread and butter. It looked delicious. They made their way back towards their seats.

_“Bon apetit,”_ said Mr. Bates with a smile, and her lips curved upwards in a smile, before she tucked into her food with gusto. It was strange. After picking at her food for the last couple of days with no appetite whatsoever, she was suddenly ravenous. Now she ate greedily, mopping up the gravy with her bread and shovelling it into her mouth. For a moment, she worried that Mr. Bates would find her horribly unladylike, but one glance in his direction told her otherwise; his eyes were almost worshipful upon her face, and it made her stomach flutter pleasantly. He ate more reservedly, taking his time. Anna tried not to stare at him, though she was finding it difficult not to glance in his direction every few seconds. There was so much of him that she had to learn in such little time. The strong curve of his jaw. The boyish grin that shone through when he was feeling pleased. The secret depths behind those dark eyes.

“How was the rest of your day?” he asked her, breaking through her thoughts.

“Very dull,” she answered. “I had some mending to do. I whiled away most of it doing that.”

“I never had the pleasure,” he joked. “Although I used to dread the silver being brought out for polishing.”

She giggled. “Thomas hates it too. He always tries to put more work on William. He’s our second footman.”

Mr. Bates ducked his head. “I tried that once. I felt so guilty afterwards that I took up some of Joseph’s duties to ease my conscience.”

Anna laughed out loud at that, lowering her knife and fork. “Mr. Bates, how beastly of you.”

“I learned my lesson after that.”

She caught his gaze, held it for a brief moment. He had such intense eyes.

“Anyway, how was your day?” she blurted. “It must have been more interesting than mine.”

He took a swallow of water before answering. “Very dull, if you must know. I took a few turns around the deck, and spent a little while reading.”

That made sense; John Bates struck her as the quiet, studious type. “What are you reading?”

He offered her a shy little smile. “It’s a volume of poetry by Yeats. I’ve read it before, but Mother got me a new copy to bring with me.”

“How lovely,” she exclaimed, feeling a sudden rush of tears behind her eyes. She blinked them away. “Yeats is your favourite? I’ve always found him a little depressing.”

Mr. Bates leaned forward in his seat. “You like to read as well? I know the life of a servant doesn’t leave much room for free time.”

“That’s true. Most people like to spend it socialising or relaxing. But I always try to read for half an hour before I go to bed. It’s a slow process, though.”

“What are you reading at the minute?” Mr. Bates’ voice was filled with genuine interest. She lowered her eyes.

“Just some silly romance. _A Room with a View_. I don’t think it’s your cup of tea.”

“I’ve read it before, actually. Not my usual taste, but it made a nice change.”

“You mean it wasn’t as dreary as your usual taste?” she teased, and he chuckled.

“Was it that easy to work out my usual taste from Yeats? You learn quickly, I must say.”

“You have to in service. You should know that.”

But his comment had sparked something off inside her.

There would never be enough time to learn everything that she wanted to know about him. In just a few days, they would be parted forever. They would go their separate ways and Anna would never see him again. He’d live only in her memory. She’d forget the little details in time. The way that he looked at her, his expression just so to make her insides squirm. The soft burr of his voice, interested in everything she had to say. Those dark eyes, always so sincere. He was the kind of man that she’d never experience again, she felt it in her bones.

And, suddenly, she could think of nothing worse in the whole world than parting from him.

“Anna?” Mr. Bates had obviously heard the breath catch in her throat, for he was looking at her with concern, his eyes warm and kind. The look made her want to cry. How could she part from him? They had barely known each other a few days, but she was sure that life could never be the same for her. No _man_ could ever be the same for her. Mr. Bates had made her feel things that she’d never felt before in her entire life. She was certain that they were things that would lie dormant for good once they parted for the last time.

Could she do that? Part from him and resign herself to the fact that life would lose its colour?

This was far from perfect and far from ideal. Everyone would scoff at her and declare her a stupid girl. She’d never get anyone to believe that her life could have been turned upside down in a few meetings and several personal conversations. She herself was confused by it; not even once had she believed that she could start to feel so strongly for someone in such a short space of time. The others would call it a fleeting fancy brought on by the first man to pay her proper attention. And yet she knew that _they’d_ be the wrong ones; the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of saying goodbye wasn’t merely brought on by a meaningless crush. They were connected on some deeper, unexplainable level.

With a certain, terrifying clarity, Anna realised that she never _would_ be able to say goodbye. It was disturbing to even think about the word love, especially with everything that had happened, but it lingered there anyway in the darker recesses of her mind.

Love. Could it be…?

“Anna?” Now Mr. Bates sounded more worried than ever, and she shook her head to bring herself back to the present, forcing a smile. He was still looking at her with the same tender concern. No one had ever looked at her like that before. She’d garnered looks of appreciation and lust from sweaty farmhands in the past, but no one had ever looked at her with such reverence.

She didn’t _want_ anyone else to look at her with such reverence. Mr. Bates had ruined it all in the most perfect of moments. His eyes were so soft and earnest, his mouth set just slightly. She could feel tears burning behind her eyes and blinked them away.

“It’s fine,” she said, though her voice sounded shaky. “Nothing’s wrong. How’s the plum pudding?”

He frowned, but didn’t pursue the subject. She knew that he sensed that she didn’t want to talk about it just yet, and appreciated him all the more for it. The conversation picked up a little then, Anna making sure that it steered well clear of her emotions. The atmosphere cut a stark contrast to the one of the previous evening; all of the tension and the awkwardness had melted away despite the thoughts playing on her mind. Instead, they spoke without fear, laughing and teasing, touching upon all manner of things. Mr. Bates regaled her with more tales of his time in service, and her heart flipped at the faraway look in his eyes as he talked her through his naughtier antics as a young footman; she tried to respond in kind with her own stories of Downton Abbey, but it was difficult for her to concentrate completely when her mind was in other places. Around them, the dining hall slowly began to empty, but they stayed where they were, lost in their own private conversations. Only when Mr. Bates blinked and checked his pocket watch did they move.

“Good God,” he said, sounding surprised. “We’ve been here a long time. We should get moving.”

Anna glanced around her to find that the place was almost deserted now; only a couple of families remained, attempting to coax their young children into eating. “You’re probably right.”

“We can move to the general room, if you’d like. I’m sure we can find somewhere to sit. Unless you’d prefer to head back now?”

At his question, Anna felt her stomach drop. At some point this evening, she’d have to bid him goodnight and leave. At some point within the next week, she’d have to bid him goodbye in New York. That goodbye would signify the end of everything.

And, stupid, mad, wrong as it was, she knew that she couldn’t do it. Somehow, in a few short days, Mr. Bates had wriggled himself into her heart. She couldn’t leave him behind.

Up until now, Anna had always believed that there was only one question that could change someone’s life for good, the age-old proposal. Never had she expected that such a mundane question from an almost-stranger would carry such momentous consequences, one way or the other. She had her life’s most important decision wrapped up in her reply. To go or to stay. Both would shape the rest of her days.

She knew what she had to do.

“I don’t want to go back just yet, no,” she said.

“The general room it is,” he decided, his smile a little too relieved.

“Actually, I’d rather we go somewhere else, if you don’t mind.”

Mr. Bates furrowed his brow. “Of course I don’t mind…but why?”

“I’ve got something to say,” she said. “Let’s go outside.”

“All right,” he said, though his frown had deepened. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to the general room?”

She shook her head, biting at her lip. “I’d prefer it if we can speak somewhere more private.”

\-- --

_Private_. The word sent a terrified thrill through his body. It was entirely too ominous. Still, he rose to his feet and followed her out of the door. The journey was made in silence. It was oddly reminiscent of the way that she had told him that she didn’t want to see him again just two nights previously. Was that what this was about? His heart began to pound sickeningly. Had his honesty been too little? Had be become too complacent and arrogant?

At the door to the outside world, Anna paused, peering out.

“It’s cold,” she commented. “Getting colder too, by the feel of things.”

“We can stay here, if you’d like. I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

She shot him a smile, and it soothed him just a little. “I’m tougher than I look, Mr. Bates. Unless you’re the one who’s afraid of getting cold?”

“Certainly not,” he retorted, reaching across her to push open the door. He thought he heard her breath stop. “Ladies first.”

“What a gentleman,” she teased. “Sending the lady into death’s grip first.”

“I never said I _was_ a gentleman,” he replied easily, stepping after her and closing the door. “Besides, you know the kind of man I am.”

“Was,” she said firmly. There was something foreign in her tone that he didn’t recognise.

They walked forward a little. The outside was utterly deserted. John had a feeling that the biting cold had driven everybody inside, into the warmth of others’ company. He privately hoped that they wouldn’t be too long. His hand was already freezing on his cane.

The mood between them had sobered as they moved towards the railings. Anna grabbed hold of them and peered into the darkness. It was a rather strange sensation, to apparently be floating on nothing. John moved beside her. His arm touched her. Heat exploded in that tiny spot, and he closed his eyes against it. He wanted to step closer, but resisted the urge. He couldn’t. Still, there was nothing to say that he couldn’t look at her, so he turned his head, intent on admiring her side profile. He stopped short, however, when he realised that she looked a little conflicted. He wondered it if would be too bold to rest his hand on her.

“Anna?” he said, his fingers hovering just shy of the flimsy material covering her arm.

She drew a deep breath, then turned to face him. Her blue eyes were almost black in the light from the hundreds of stars overhead, like a bad storm on the sea. He withdrew his hand.

“There’s something I have to say,” she said.

John gestured for her to continue. His heart had begun to pound anew in his chest. It rattled his ribs sickeningly. He had to hear it, whatever she was going to say.

“I’m afraid that I’ll be speaking out of turn.”

“Never,” he said as reassuringly as he could.

“I’ve been thinking…I have to say something that you won’t agree with…”

“That doesn’t matter. You don’t need to be afraid of saying anything to me.”

She nodded, and he watched as she swallowed. She had obviously taken courage from his words, for she reached out her hand between them. John drew breath sharply, and he felt suddenly lightheaded. There was nothing at all accidental about the movement. And it was surer than it had been that morning, when she’d pulled him along after her. Her fingers were stroking against the back of his hand. She wanted him to take it. He froze. But his paralysis didn’t deter her, for she stepped closer to him, eyes searching his face.

“When we dock in America,” she said, “I want to come with you.”

The world shattered around him. This couldn’t be happening. It _couldn’t_. Anna wasn’t saying these things to him. His hand trembled beneath hers. He wanted to push it away and put some distance between them and declare the whole thing as ridiculous. He wanted to ask her to leave and to reflect on the silliness of her words.

But what scared him was that more than anything, he wanted to pull her to him and thank her breathlessly for the words that he would never have been brave enough to say himself.

“Say something,” she said at last as he stood tongue-tied in front of her, the bile clawing at his throat.

“No.” The word tumbled out of his mouth like poison, and he winced at its harshness. But there was no gentle way of rebuffing her. He hated to do it, already imagining the light fading from her eyes, but it was worse to say nothing and keep her hopes alive.

“I knew you’d say that,” she said, but she didn’t sound hurt, just frighteningly determined.

“I’m married,” he said as forcefully as he could, begging her to see. “You’ve clearly forgotten that fact.”

“No, I haven’t,” she said.

“This is absurd.”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve worked everything out.”

“What is there to work out? We can never be married in the eyes of the law, and it’s out of the question to even contemplate anything else.”

“But you’re not denying it?”

“Denying _what_?”

“That…that there’s something between us.”

Too late, John realised that he still hadn’t moved his hand from underneath Anna’s, and he screamed internally as she turned his hand over so that she could hold it properly. They fitted together perfectly, as if they’d been created for that sole purpose. He found that he couldn’t pull away.

“I’m going to speak now,” she said softly, “and I don’t want you to interrupt. You can dispute all you want when I’ve said my piece, but until then, I just want you to listen.”

“But Anna—”

“No interruptions,” she said more firmly. “Grant me that.”

What else could he do? Unsmiling, unmoving, he could do nothing but give her his permission. She took it with a nod, eyes burning bright, squeezing his hand just lightly. It was heavenly, knowing the precise feeling of her palm against his. He could gauge the strength of her grip, the delicacy of her fingers. The softness contrasting with the rough callouses on her fingertips. A heady sensation.

“I’ve given this some thought,” Anna said quietly, letting her eyes lower to contemplate their joined hands. “And I know that it sounds impossible, but it doesn’t have to be.”

“How?” he burst out, and she furrowed her brow impatiently.

“Really, Mr. Bates. Let me finish before you start asking questions.”

He bit his lip to keep his retort in check, not wanting to lose his temper—she didn’t deserve that.

“Thank you,” she said when she realised that he was going to keep silent. “Now, you haven’t said what you plan on doing when you reach America, but I’ll have to follow Lady Mary to Newport. I can’t simply abandon the family. We’ll be in America for a few months. I can write and keep in contact with you. We’ll be finishing our visit in New York, so we can meet up with each other then. I’ll tell the family that I want to stay there. I’ll most likely have to travel back with them until someone else can be trained up to replace me, and I can also fetch my belongings. I’ve lived at Downton for years, so I don’t own many things. And I have my savings. I used to send it home, but now I just keep it for a rainy day. I’m sure I have enough to buy a one way ticket in third class…”

“This is out of the question,” said John, unable to keep quiet any longer. “I wouldn’t want you spending your own money on a ticket to get back here. I’m not worthy of that. And I certainly wouldn’t want you to travel alone. Anything could happen to you.”

“I can look after myself, Mr. Bates.”

“I don’t doubt that. But this is madness, don’t you see? What will your parents say? They’d never want you all the way across the Atlantic. Not without knowing everything.”

Anna’s eyes darkened just slightly, her mouth downturning. “They won’t say a thing. They’re dead. I don’t see my brothers.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” John mumbled, feeling his scalp prickle with shame. He had the sudden urge to caress her cheek, and resisted desperately.

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You weren’t to know.”

“And don’t you think that that would be a problem?” he asked her. “We only met a few days ago. How can you be talking of such things when we’re almost strangers?”

“It’s odd,” she admitted. “But don’t you see? I have nothing to hide. I know the worst about you. Nothing could come between us.”

“Shouldn’t there be more to it? Don’t you want to marry when you know that it’s love, raise a family with the man? What if things change?”

“It sounds absurd, but I know that things won’t change. Not in one month, not in fifty years.”

John heaved a sigh, distractedly running a hand through his hair. “You’ll ruin your reputation. I can’t allow that.”

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t care about my reputation, don’t you understand? If I wanted something safe, I would have married years ago. I’ve had chances, just none that I’ve wanted. _This_ is something I want. And I don’t care what it costs.”

Silence followed Anna’s last statement. In those quiet moments, John considered what had been said. The whole thing was incredibly unbelievable. How could Anna possibly want him? He was a great deal older than her, and he couldn’t offer her the security and sanctuary of marriage, children, a stable home life. His injury would prevent him from getting a good job, and he knew that he’d worry himself sick thinking about the ways that he needed to provide for her. And, more than all that, he was worried that she wasn’t truly prepared for that kind of life. He supposed in some respects her reputation would matter less in a place where no one knew them. Playing at marriage was easy; no one would suspect their deception, and no one would ever need to find out the contrary. But there would be social expectations for them. A family. It would be easy to say that they were unable, but John couldn’t guarantee that he could remain a gentleman. She had made it quite clear that they wouldn’t be living as two friends behind closed doors. She would expect more. But what if she was disgusted by him? His body wasn’t lithe and able like many others’. His knee was scarred and unsightly. What if it made things awkward beyond repair? John knew all too well the way that things changed once that barrier had been crossed. He had witnessed it enough times in his life. Anna could come to resent him in time, and then he’d be left with even less than he had now.

But he would be lying to himself if he said that he couldn’t imagine Anna living her life beside him. He could see them now; him returning from a long day at work, opening the door to find her pottering about in the kitchen, cooking something delicious for their dinner. She’d smile and kiss him softly in greeting, and he’d wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, marvelling at how such a wonderful woman had walked into his life. John knew that he’d always treasure her, no matter what.

“Mr. Bates?” She didn’t sound any less sure of herself. How could she be so calm with such a momentous decision?

“I still don’t agree with what you’re proposing,” he said at last. “I think it’s ludicrous that you’ve contemplated it. I will never be the perfect man for you.”

“Except that you are,” she said. “Ever since I met you, I’ve known. Deep down, right from the start.”

Slowly, confidently, her hand began to move. His breathing stopped as her fingers trailed up in his arm and found their way to his face, stroking his skin delicately. They were too close to his mouth. It took all of his strength not to turn his head and kiss her fingertips. They felt perfect.

“What do you say, Mr. Bates?” she whispered. Her eyes were beautiful, soft and searching.

He should say no, tell her to forget about him and dream of a better man. A man who would be worthy of her, who could give her his name in the eyes of God, who could shower the treasures of the world upon her. But the words that came out of his mouth were nothing like the ones that he had been planning.

“All right.”

Taut silence followed his statement, and internally, John winced. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have said that at all. But Anna’s eyes were shining with triumph and joy, and John couldn’t lie to himself. Not anymore. He was glad that he’d said the words.

“Do you mean it?” Anna breathed. “Truly?”

God help him, but he did. “Truly.”

“You can’t change your mind when the next few days are over. Are you sure that you’re not rushing yourself into this?”

“Are you trying to say that you’re the one getting cold feet now?” he teased. “I’m sure, Anna. I’ve never been surer about anything.”

Anna’s eyes glowed. “I’m glad to hear it. I know it’s unexpected, and I know that the world would be horrified if it knew, but something tells me that this is right.”

“I feel it too. I started feeling it from the moment I met you.” It felt odd to be opening his heart in such a way. He had never even spoken this honestly to Vera. But with Anna, it was different. _He_ was different. Even though he had only known her for a few short days, she had already started to make him a better man.

“I’m glad that we’re in the same frame of mind, Mr. Bates.”

He chuckled, his eyes searching her face as though he couldn’t quite believe this. “You know, if we’re to live together like that, you’re going to be addressing me differently. So you might start calling me John.”

She giggled, her cheeks reddening. “John.” It sounded so right falling from her lips. “That’s right. I will. But I think for now I’ll stick to Mr. Bates. Just until we get to America. I want to use it when we’re properly together.”

He nodded, understanding.

“I have something for you,” she said.

“Oh?” replied John, cocking an eyebrow at her. “What’s that, then?”

She removed her hand from him to begin fumbling with the bag swinging from her wrist. John noticed the loss keenly, but forced himself to focus on her actions. She was ferreting about inside the bag now, and in the next moment, she brought out something small. It was her lucky charm. John’s heart leapt at the sight of it. All of his hope had been taken away when she’d taken it back the first time. Now she was offering it to him again.

“Here,” she said needlessly. “Take it.”

“Will I be needing good luck?” he joked, reaching out for it.

“Silly man,” she said fondly. “The time for good luck has passed. This is coming back to you with a promise.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I promise that we’ll have our future.”

_Our future_. It sounded incredible. In that moment, he vowed to be whatever Anna needed him to be. He would work a hundred times harder than he ever had done in his life to ensure that she never wanted for anything. He wouldn’t be the failure. Not this time.

“Do you think we should seal the future?” Anna asked.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he agreed. “What did you have in mind?”

She pinked a little, but held his gaze. “A kiss.”

The air left the world, and he could do nothing but grasp the railing to keep him grounded. A kiss. She wanted to kiss him. His mouth began to water just a little at the thought of tasting those sweet lips of hers, of feeling their softness underneath his. He was in no doubt that it would be the most incredible sensation of his life. He couldn’t resist.

He backed her up until she was against the cold metal railings. He felt her shiver, and he slid his arms either side of her to grip them in his hands. He hoped that the warmth of his body would be enough to warm her in turn. His cane clinked against the icy steel as he expertly hooked it over, freeing his hands from their restrictions. She tilted her head upwards so that she could look into his face; he heard her breath quicken as he gazed down at her.

“Anna, what have you done to me?” he said hoarsely, and she raised her arms so that she could pull at the sides of his jacket.

“Nothing you haven’t done to me, Mr. Bates,” she breathed in reply, and he felt her shiver again. He hoped that this time it was because of the way that she was touching him, the most intimate they had ever been. Christ, _he _was shivering at the sensations, never mind her.

“I won’t blame you should you want to change your mind,” he murmured, though he could hear the underlying current of pain in his tone and knew that she must be able to too. “Are you truly sure that this is what you want?”

“I know the facts,” she said huskily. “I don’t care about them. Everything you told me is in the past. This is the present. This is what I want. We can worry about the hows and the whys later. Just…just let it be this way for us. Just tonight. Let me know you.”

John groaned at her words, unable to stop himself from leaning closer. “You could do so much better than me.”

“I don’t want better than you.” Her voice and eyes were fierce as she stared at him, willing him to understand. “I’m not a silly little girl. I know what I want. I want you. We can work out the details when we arrive in America. Until then, let’s just trust the happiness that we’ve been given.”

He nodded, mouth dry. How could he ever doubt Anna Smith? She was so strong, so sure. If only he had saved himself for her. He would give up everything he knew in a heartbeat if it meant that he could be free for her.

“Are you going to kiss me, then?” Her tone was cheeky and sultry, and despite his misgivings he couldn’t help but smile. She was beautiful, a faery sent to enchant and entice him, but he would gladly follow her into the siren’s pool if it only meant that he could indulge in one moment of weakness.

He didn’t answer her in words. He couldn’t. Instead he slid his right arm to her waist, resting it there boldly. Anna exhaled sharply at the contact, but he could tell from the way that her eyes lit up as she looked at him that she enjoyed the sensation, so he allowed her a few seconds to grow accustomed to the weight of his hand against her side before deliberately stepping closer to her. There was barely an inch of space between them now.

\-- --

“Anna.” Her name was a prayer on his lips, and he closed the distance between them until she could almost taste him on her mouth. The railings behind her began to dig into her spine painfully, but she didn’t even register them as his weight—warm, heavy, delicious—pressed against her. They were out in the open; anyone could walk past at any moment and interrupt them. And yet it didn’t matter. This was the most perfect moment that Anna had ever experienced in her life, and she was determined not to squander it. Of their own accord, her arms left her sides to actively participate in drawing him closer to her; her hands felt at home on his waist. She was glad that she’d made the decision that she had. Somehow, she knew that they’d both be very happy indeed.

Their mouths were almost touching now. Anna’s eyes began to slide closed in anticipation of the brush of his lips; she noticed that Mr. Bates’ were doing the same. How would they feel? Firm? Rough? Soft? Any moment now, her world would implode—

And, out of nowhere, there was a terrible crash and a grating noise. Thrown completely off balance, Anna and Mr. Bates’ heads collided. Anna grabbed hold of the railing tightly as his body weight careened into hers, pushing her painfully against the metal barriers and squeezing the air from her lungs. Tentatively, they pulled away from each other, Anna rubbing the sore spot on the side of her head, staring round as they recovered from the shock.

The ship was shuddering as if it had just come to life.

Or as if it was convulsing with its dying breath.


	11. This is not Goodbye

_ 11\. This is not Goodbye _

_Sunday 14th April, 1912, 23:40_

For a few moments, neither of them said a word, trying to gauge the sudden turn of events.

“Do you have any idea what that was?” John asked, stepping away from her completely and moving a few paces away to lean over the rails in the hope of seeing something in the darkness.

“No, I don’t,” replied Anna. He could see her shaking. The moment between them was lost.

“It didn’t sound good,” said John. “It seemed as if it was coming from the ship.”

“God,” she squeaked, moving to stand by his side. “You don’t think we hit anything?”

John frowned. “It’s too dark to see. But I can’t think of anything else that could explain that. Wait here. I’m just going to walk a little further along the deck.”

“Don’t leave me here on my own!”

“Come with me, then. We’ll only be a few moments.”

She scurried to his side and shadowed his movements as he hurried as fast as his cane would allow around the side of the deck. And there it was, lying broken on the deck. A piece of ice.

John swore under his breath. So they _had_ hit something. Something huge by the look of it.

“Oh, God,” Anna moaned again, wide eyes staring at the sight in front of her. “We’re not going to sink, are we?”

A hysterical note was working its way into her voice, and John knew that he had to quell it before she became too panicked. “Not necessarily. A ship can hit something and still stay floating. It all depends on how big the impact is.”

“I’d say quite big, if the shaking is anything to go by. And look at the size of that ice!”

“Anna, calm down,” he said gently. “Please, don’t panic. Why don’t we go back inside and see if there’s anyone around who might know more?”

She nodded wordlessly. Her face had paled. He missed the embarrassed blush in her cheeks. Slowly, he reached out his hand to touch her face, thumbs caressing.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said as reassuringly as he could. “I promise.”

He knew she wasn’t naïve; she’d know that he couldn’t make such promises. But she accepted it anyway. Tentatively, she reached out her hand so that she could twine her fingers through his. Under any other circumstances, he probably would have pulled away, conscious of the propriety that they still had to uphold despite what they had agreed, but to hell with that now. She needed the reassurance. Together, they made their way back inside.

There was a fair bit of chaos inside. Several groups of men, women, and children had congregated in the main hold of the ship, each shouting questions. Evidently, the ship’s tremors had not gone unnoticed.

“See?” said John. They’ll let us know what’s happening soon, and then our minds will be put at rest.”

“Do you see anyone here to ask?” she asked, craning her neck, too short to see over the crowd.

John scanned it for her benefit. “No, not yet.” He squeezed her hand, encouraging her to step closer. “Do you want to move to the general room for a while, or would you rather stay here?”

“Here, I think,” she said. “Then we’ll know the moment that anything changes.”

John nodded in understanding. Truthfully, he was feeling more anxious than he was letting Anna know, but he didn’t want to add his own uncertainties to her fears.

“Let’s move over there,” he said. “We’ll at least be out of danger of being trampled if any more people arrive.”

She managed a weak smile and followed him, clinging tight to his hand. He gave hers a reassuring squeeze, guiding her to a corner. The murmurs of discontent were growing louder. People were hungry to know more about the odd tremor that had disturbed the natural routine that they’d fallen into. John just hoped that there would be someone along soon enough to put their world to right.

\-- --

Anna glanced around when Mr. Bates came to a still, meeting the nervous gaze of another young woman. The fear would spread through them like wild animals. Anna shivered, stepping closer to Mr. Bates. Everything would be all right. It had to be. She and Mr. Bates had pledged their futures to each other. Things couldn’t go wrong for them now.

“Here,” said Mr. Bates, throwing her a wan smile. “Come on, Anna, don’t look so horrified.”

“I don’t know how you can be so calm,” she said, but she tried to make it sound like a joke. She felt her heart slow just slightly when his thumb circled her wrist bone.

Surprisingly enough, not everyone seemed overly concerned about the fact that they had hit an iceberg. In fact, Anna could see several young men laughing and joking outside, cigarettes hanging loosely from their mouths, kicking a lump of ice between them. It slid across the deck with a grating sound that made Anna shiver. Little chips flew off with every kick, flying in every direction like frozen stars, catching in the glow from the lamps. Around them, a group of young women tittered, which was clearly just encouraging the men more. Several children ran around unsupervised as their parents stopped to peer over the edge of the boat, shrieking at each other and almost knocking a middle-aged woman off her feet as she passed with her husband. On the whole, however, everything was quiet. More people seemed to have retired for the evening. Clutching Mr. Bates’ hand tighter, she craned her head down, her left hand snaking down towards his waistcoat.

“Anna, what are you doing?” he asked her. “I thought we agreed that we’d wait until America?” She could tell that he was trying to sound teasing for her benefit. She smiled weakly, not wanting him to know that all of his efforts had failed.

“I just wanted to see what time it was, that’s all,” she said.

“All right, then. Take a look.”

“Don’t you want to?”

He gave her a smile so tender that she felt her heart physically ache. “I would, but I’m afraid that I only have one hand that I can rely on. And at this current moment it’s rather occupied holding yours.”

Anna felt her cheeks flush at his words, preparing to loosen her grip on him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m enjoying it far too much.”

His grip on her hand tightened further, and it was all the encouragement that she needed to squeeze him hard in return. Reassured once more, she finished the task that she’d started, unhooking his pocket watch from where it was tucked out of sight. She narrowed her eyes, squinting to make out the tiny hands in the darkness.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said softly.

Mr. Bates furrowed his brow. “It’s getting too late for you to be down here. Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather get yourself into bed?”

She shook her head stubbornly. “No. Not until I know what’s going on.”

“Nothing will be going on.”

Her frown deepened. His lips quirked just a little, as if he thought that she was too stubborn. Well, she was. It was something he would have to get used to if they were to live together in America.

“Very well,” he said. “Let’s look on the bright side. At least we’re reasonably warm in here.”

She couldn’t argue with his logic there. More people had gathered in the time that they had been talking, and the room was filling with people of all ages. Soon there wouldn’t be enough room to move properly. Those outside would effectively be trapped.

She shuddered at her own morbid thinking.

How long they all stood there, she didn’t know. They spent the time in silence, only broken occasionally by mechanical assurances. Their hands never parted, not even for a moment, the strong grip never faltering. As time wore on, several people yelled outside, wanting updates. There was nothing to report.

“Hey, Bates!”

They were suddenly interrupted by a loud voice, and both of them turned at once. Mr. Bates’ eyes widened in recognition.

“Sam,” he said.

Now Anna recognised the young man making his way towards them too. He had been one of the men whom Mr. Bates had been sitting with when she’d sought him out a mere few days ago. He was more sober than he had been then, his eyes bright and alert.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” he asked as he reached their side. “We were just getting a drink when we felt the commotion.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much,” said Mr. Bates. “But we’ve hit an iceberg, there’s evidence of that outside.”

“Bastards,” Sam swore, then cleared his throat when he realised that Anna was standing there. “Beg pardon, Miss.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “Really.”

“Do we know how bad it is?” Sam asked, nodding in Anna’s direction to acknowledge her reassurances.

“There’s been no word on anything yet,” said Mr. Bates. “But they’ve got to let us know something soon. Where are the others?”

“They’re on their way,” said Sam. “Oh, look, here they are.”

Sure enough, several other burly men were making their way over. Anna recognised those too. Remembering the rather unpleasant way she had been greeted last time, she pressed herself further against Mr. Bates’ side as he greeted each of them in turn. However, their conversation was interrupted after only a few moments by the arrival of a member of the White Star Line. Thank God for that. The room fell silent instantly, as if he possessed some ungodly power. Anna’s heart was beating so fast that the individual beats were indistinguishable. For a frightening moment she thought her life would end then and there. Instinctively, she squeezed Mr. Bates’ hand harder, her nails biting into his skin. If he felt it, he didn’t let on. His gaze was transfixed on the man. There was real fear there, something she had never associated with his stoic nature before. Seeing it in his usually so calm face made everything a thousand times harder. Trembling, she struggled against the blind panic that simmered just beneath the surface. She had to keep her head clear. She couldn’t go charging like a wild animal. It would spell disaster. And then she heard Mr. Bates’ voice, low and steady despite the look on his face.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Anna. I promise.”

She wanted to snap at him for saying such things when he knew as well as anyone that there wasn’t anything he could do to change the course of Fate, but that wouldn’t be fair. He was just trying to be there for her, to make her feel safe. She should appreciate that. Internally chastened, she took a moment to cover his hand with both of hers.

“Reckon we should try and get nearer?” asked George, jerking his head in the direction of the terrified White Star Line steward. “If he’s going to tell us what’s going on, then we don’t want to miss anything.”

“Good idea,” Mr. Bates agreed. “Anna?”

She nodded, instinctively moving closer to him as he took a step forward.

“You won’t let go, will you?” she asked, hoping he didn’t find her silly. If he did think so, he didn’t let it show, simply squeezing her hand tighter. Her palm was sweaty, and it was slicking his too.

“I won’t let go,” he affirmed.

Pacified, she kept close to his heel as Mr. Bates and the other men pushed their way through the crowd that had started to close in as everyone jostled for the best positions. He was much stronger than he looked, her man; his cane was enough to lull sneering individuals into a false sense of security.

They made it to the front of the crowd through some sheer miracle, the burliness of the strong, young men put to good use. She could see the steward’s face clearly now. The panicked sweat and the darting eyes did nothing to abate her growing fear. Other people were pushing and shoving behind them, shouting indecipherable things, and Anna almost stumbled over when she felt a sharp jab in the small of her back. Mr. Bates turned around at once, his face set in stone.

“Watch what you’re doing,” he growled in a fierce thunder.

Tempers were fraying, and the man behind squared his shoulders. “Why don’t you tell her to get out of the way instead!?”

She saw Mr. Bates’ eyes flash, and tugged at his hand urgently. “Please, Mr. Bates. It isn’t worth it.”

“Listen to the little lady,” he taunted, and Mr. Bates gritted his teeth, evidently more than ready to defend her. She watched as he drew himself to his full height, his chest puffing out.

“Can I have your attention, please?” said the man, interrupting the atmosphere. His voice wavered and shook, and at the sound of his less-than-confident expression, all eyes were upon him. Mr. Bates hugged her closer, pushing her in front of him and out of the reach of anyone else. Anna tilted her head back to keep the steward in view, but her mind fuzzed briefly; Mr. Bates had released her hand to place his on her waist, steadying her. There was absolutely nothing lecherous about the touch, and she realised it was probably more unconscious than anything else, but she noticed it acutely; her skin burned beneath her many layers of clothes. However, all impure thoughts were chased clean from her mind when the man began to speak again, answering the incomprehensible shouts of the gathering.

“I can confirm that the ship has hit an iceberg,” he said.

“We ain’t stupid, mister! The bloody ice on deck out there gives that away!”

“What we want to know is if it’s sinking!”

“What are we going to do?”

“How do we get off?”

The shouts rose again, drowning out his voice. More people were pushing, vying for the best chance of escape. Mr. Bates’ grip on her waist tightened, keeping her firmly in place.

“Please,” shouted the young man, “stop pushing this instant!”

What he could really do if they didn’t was a mystery to Anna. In any case, they didn’t appear to be taking even the slightest bit of heed. His face paled further.

“What do you expect us to do?” demanded George, rubbing his head where someone’s flailing elbow had hit him.

“You need to get into your life jackets and remain calm,” he barked.

The roars of outrage only rose.

“And what the bloody hell do you expect us to do after that?”

“Are you going to get us up to deck?”

“You’re to remain here for now,” the steward yelled, taking a step backwards. “There’s no need to move you yet.”

For a moment, there was a hushed, stunned silence. The children stopped crying. The men stopped yelling. The women stopped their murmured prayers. Anna could barely even digest it. They weren’t going to be allowed up. They were going to be kept down here, while the ship sank around them. God, she was going to be sick—

And then the noise erupted like an unstable volcano, reaching a new crescendo and almost deafening her. She could almost taste the fear and anger in the air around her. It was sour in the back of her throat. Mr. Bates’ hand trembled on her waist. The vibrations shook her core.

“What the bloody hell are you trying to suggest?” roared Sam.

“You can’t expect us to stay here!”

“They’re trying to cage us like animals for the slaughterhouse!”

The pushing was frenzied, and Anna stumbled forward a couple of paces, Mr. Bates’ weight pressed firmly against her back, his cane losing purchase on the wooden floor. He swore. The steward in front of them looked positively ill with fear.

“Stop pushing!” he roared. “I won’t tell you again!” Beads of sweat rolled down his face. “This isn’t an easy situation for anyone, and you behaving like animals won’t make anything easier!”

“Easy for you to say!” someone yelled from the crowd. Mr. Bates’ hand found hers again and tightened resolutely; in the next instant, he was pulling her forward, fighting his way up towards the steward.

“Get back!” he bellowed at once. “I mean it, keep away, otherwise I’ll be forced to take action!”

Mr. Bates raised his spare hand and his cane, a gesture of peace, but the steward looked more skittish than ever.

“Please, sir. I have one thing to say,” Mr. Bates said, ignoring the look.

“What’s that, then?” he asked tersely.

Anna tilted her head too; she was just as curious. Mr. Bates kept his gaze right away from hers.

“I’d like to request that you let this woman past you.”

_“What?”_

“No!” Anna cried out. Her nails bit into his skin as she clung more resolutely to him. “Mr. Bates, don’t you _dare_!”

He ignored her, mouth set in a firm line. “She shouldn’t be down here. She works for the Earl of Grantham—”

The man snorted. “All right, shut up and move back.”

“What!?” Mr. Bates exploded.

“Mr. Bates,” Anna begged, tugging desperately at his hand. “I’m not going to leave you. Come on.”

But Mr. Bates had squared his shoulders and was glowering menacingly, obviously itching for a fight. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Of course not,” the steward replied, sarcasm dripping from his words, evidently recovering his sense of superiority despite his earlier fear at being surrounded by an angry mob. “I mean it’s logical that she’d be down here with you when she works for such a prestigious family, dressed in the clothes that she is.” His eyes drifted to their joined hands, and he grinned leeringly. “Are you sure that there isn’t a more personal explanation for your desire to see her safe?”

“She doesn’t deserve to be here!” Mr. Bates hissed. “It’s the bloody _truth_! Ask the family yourself!”

“I’ll abandon my post and do just that,” he drawled. “I’m sure I can trust you all to stay here.”

“Mr. Bates,” begged Anna again, her breath hitching. “Stop it!”

Mr. Bates gritted his teeth, eyes flashing. “Tell him, Anna.”

“No!” she responded stubbornly. “I’ve told you, I’m staying right here with you!”

“Listen to your woman and get back,” the man sneered. Mr. Bates glared, but Anna remained just as strong.

“What’s going on?” asked Sam as she succeeded in pulling him back a little.

“They won’t let Anna back through,” he growled.

“I’ve told you, I don’t _want_ to go back!” she cried. “I want to stay here with you.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” he muttered darkly. “Look how nervous he is. Something more is afoot, and they don’t want us to know just yet. I don’t believe that they’d order us into our lifejackets if nothing was amiss.”

“I think I have to agree,” said Harry. “This could be bad.”

“That’s why I don’t want you here,” said Mr. Bates. “You should be with Lord Grantham. They’re much better placed than I am. If something is happening, then you’ll do better with them.”

“I won’t repeat myself again,” she said stubbornly, though her heart was pounding a sickening tune. She could tell from the way that Mr. Bates was scowling at her that he wasn’t happy with her decision, but before he could argue further, Sam piped up again.

“Well, what if we could get her back where she belongs by creating a diversion?”

Anna’s heart sank.

\-- --

Sam’s words captured John’s attention at once, and he turned to look at him. A rebel by nature, he looked eager at the thought of causing mischief.

“Have you got an idea?” John asked.

“Mr. Bates!” Anna said, obviously enraged, but he ignored her.

Sam grinned. “Well, I think a little shoving might do the trick.”

It sounded like pub brawl behaviour as far as John was concerned, but he had had more than his fair share of experience when it came to that, shamefully, even with his injured leg.

“I think it might work,” he agreed.

“Well, I don’t,” said Anna heatedly. “I’ve already made my decision, and nothing is going to change that.”

“What if someone went with you?” Sam suggested.

Anna wavered.

“It wouldn’t work,” said John. “I couldn’t keep up with my leg. Sam, you take her.”

“No!” said Anna.

John huffed in frustration, angry at her for being so stubborn, angry at himself for being so useless. “Anna, it’s the only way. Sam’s younger and fitter than me. He’ll look after you Or if not him, then one of the others.”

She shook her head vigorously. “It’s you or no one, Mr. Bates.”

“Look, do as she says, Bates,” said Sam. “I agree that she should be with that posh lot that she works with, but if she won’t go with anyone but you, then it’s your responsibility to get her there.”

John gritted his teeth, his frustration reaching boiling point. But then he wilted. He couldn’t slow her down. He would have to persevere with his leg no matter what. Anna deserved all of his efforts.

“All right,” he said.

George whooped. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get the bastard.”

They were still holding their own reasonably well, a few rows behind the first wave of people, and it only took a few hard shoves to get them back to the front. John gripped on tightly to Anna’s hand.

“Stay close,” he said in a low voice. “And be prepared to run without me.”

She rolled her eyes but said nothing, waiting for their opportunity.

Sam approached the steward with the confident swagger of youth. The other man stiffened at once, clearly wary of his motives.

“I won’t ask you lot to stay back again,” he said, the slightest tremor betraying his nerves.

Sam grinned cheerfully. “Don’t worry, you won’t need to ask us again. Get him, lads!”

With that, the rest of the group surged forward, grabbing the man roughly and yanking on his clothes.

“Let go!” he screamed, but they paid him no heed. Kicking and flailing, he was dragged into the crowd. He fought hard, but the gathering was already in a frenzy, goaded by the fact that they were being ordered to stay behind. He was jostled from person to person as everyone surged forward, desperate to reach the exit.

This was their chance.

Harry, the strongest of John’s group, darted forward with surprising agility and began trying to prise apart the metal grille that trapped them like the bars on a cage. John looked nervously over his shoulder to find the steward beginning to fight more earnestly, obviously determined not to let them get away. He gritted his teeth and pulled Anna forward with him, letting go of her hand and handing her his cane so he could aid Harry. His muscles contorted and strained with the effort of pulling on the unyielding metal, but together they managed to move it a few inches. Harry’s face was flushed, and John had no doubt that he looked just as bad, but he persevered anyway, puffing as he pulled as hard as he could. His arms shook. Christ, he couldn’t keep this up. The pressure he was putting on his knee was almost unbearable. But, success: the metal yielded a little more, enough for a slim person to slip through.

“Go!” he hissed at Anna, who was rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

She hesitated for a moment.

“Stay right where you are!” the steward screamed. He was almost free now, despite Sam’s best efforts to restrain him. A few more women and children had gathered around Anna.

_“Go!”_ John all but screamed at her, trembling with the effort of keeping the gate open. She didn’t really have any other choice but to squeeze herself through the opening, herded along by the other women who were clawing their way through. They scarpered at once, not wishing to push their luck, but Anna remained on the other side of the gate as John gritted his teeth and forced his leg through the gap. He had just about worked himself halfway through when the steward broke free, charging towards them with a vein pulsing in his head. John barely had time to react before the man was taking hold of his arm, yanking on it as hard as he could. Caught off balance and on his weaker knee, John stumbled, and Anna sprang into action.

\-- --

The moment that the steward grabbed hold of Mr. Bates’ arm, something inside her broke. No one touched her man. _No one_.

Leaping forward, she raised his cane above her head, bringing it down with deadly accuracy against the man’s arm. He yelped in surprise, his grip loosening in shock, and Anna helped Mr. Bates to scramble through the gate.

“Get back in here right now,” the man growled, moving to prise open the gate again, but Anna raised her weapon.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, voice quivering but strong. “Come one step closer and I’ll hit you again.”

The steward paused, obviously wondering if it was worth getting smacked again, before backing down to take on the rest of the gathering, his back pressed to the grilles.

“Come on,” panted Mr. Bates. “Let’s move out of here while we still can.”

She nodded. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, making her heart pound. Sweat drenched her palms. Mr. Bates’ cane slid between her fingers. She kept a firm hold of it as they backed away, never taking their eyes off the man in case he tried to follow them after all. Once they’d reached the corner, he took the stick back, leaning against it heavily.

“Right,” he said. “Run.”

She took hold of his hand, squeezing it tight. “Only if we run together.”

“I’ve told you,” he said, evidently frustrated. “I won’t be able to keep up.”

“Then we walk together,” she said decisively. “There’s no use arguing with me. Now let’s go.”

He offered her an exasperated half-smile, his way of telling her that their mini-argument was over, and then he began to pull her along briskly.

“I thought you wouldn’t be able to keep up?” she asked.

“I said I couldn’t if we ran. I can cope at this pace. I’ll force myself to. I won’t slow you down. I’ve done too much of that already.”

She frowned at his words, but knew that there was no point in disagreeing with him over it now. They had more important things to worry about.

“Our advantage is that I know this way well,” she commented, stepping closer to him. “I’ve travelled this path so often that I know it like the paths at Downton.”

“I’m relying on you, then,” he said, and she giggled.

Even in their uncertain circumstances, she felt safe and protected. She just hoped that they could make it out just as safely.

\-- --

_Monday 15th April, 1912, 00:50_

For a while, their journey passed without incidence. Anna remembered each twist and turn like the fond wilderness of the Yorkshire countryside. She had lived and breathed this path over the last few days. The walk helped her to get herself back under control. She had panicked in there, so crowded in with others, but in the open spaces she felt her fear receding. She could do this. Even under the pressures of uncertainty, her instincts would not fail her now.

And they didn’t. Not until they reached the stairs which would take them from third class to second.

Mr. Bate swore, yanking harder on the closed grilles. Anna leaned against the wall beside him to catch her breath a moment. Despite his impediment, he had certainly made good on his oath not to slow her down. She probably felt more tired than he did.

“Bloody hell,” Mr. Bates muttered, giving the grilles another good tug. They screeched, but did not budge one inch.

“It’s no good,” she said wearily. “They’re locked tight. You’re only wasting energy doing that. That man probably locked them before he came to tell us what was going on.”

“Caging us like we’re worth nothing more than the slaughterhouse,” he growled, ignoring her. “There must be a way!”

“Well, unless you’ve got some disconcerting ability to shrink yourself then I think you’ll be out of luck,” she replied.

He brought his fist down on the metal, the resounding crash echoing through the empty corridor. Anna jumped at the sound, but she wasn’t afraid. She could see the frustration on his face. He thought he was failing her.

“It’s all right,” she reassured him. “There won’t be just one entry to and fro. We just have to find a different one, that’s all.”

“Anna, we don’t have time to be wasting,” he said. “If this ship _is_ sinking then we need to get to safety as soon as possible. That’s not going to happen if we’re running round trying to find some way off.”

“It’s not going to happen if we just stay here, either,” she said. “In fact, I’d say sinking along with this ship is more likely that way.”

All the fight went out of him at that, his body slumping against the metal grilles.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand. “We just need to keep calm.”

“You’re certainly doing a better job than me.”

“I wasn’t, not before. But I suppose that’s what relationships are all about, isn’t it? Offering strength and comfort to each other.”

He shook his head. “You are a wonder, Anna Smith.”

She felt shy under his compliments, unused to such admiring attention. But it warmed her insides, cemented her belief that she had made the right decision, giving herself to this man.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ve dawdled enough.”

“Lead the way,” he replied. “I’m right here with you.”

She held out her hand to him and he took it without hesitation, lacing their fingers together. The way would still be slow—Mr. Bates’ uneven pace did not lend to running—but they had hope. They were together.

Anna took a moment to take note of the place around her. They had come from the south, but if they doubled back on themselves they would come across another ‘crossroads’: a bare, internal room with rabbit tunnels leading west and east from the direction they had come in. One of those corridors had to lead somewhere else. They could only try.

“Right,” she said. “Let’s go. We’ve still got time.”

He was a reassuring presence at her back as they retraced their footsteps. At least the lights were still working. Although for how much longer that would be the case, Anna didn’t know. Electricity and water was a dangerous mix.

“Left or right?” asked Mr. Bates.

She paused briefly, considering. There was no indication of where either would lead. Whatever path they chose, they would be relying solely on luck to get them to safety.

“Right,” she decided. “And we’ll pray that there’s some luck in that.”

He followed her obediently as she set off again. God, how reassuring his hand in hers was. It was a bear’s paw, eclipsing hers entirely, promising strength and endurance and protection. How would she have felt if he had got his own way and sent one of the other lads with her? She would have been wretched, distraught. She would never have forgiven herself for allowing herself to be parted from him so soon.

“The other women who escaped with us are nowhere to be seen,” she offered into the silence as they walked. “That has to be a good sign, surely? They must have made it onto the top deck?”

“Or they were caught and dragged back down,” Mr. Bates muttered darkly. “That wouldn’t surprise me either.”

“I’m not too worried about that,” she said, trying to keep the mood light. “I have you with me. And you have a cane. If things get nasty you can just smack them with it.”

“Like you did earlier? I must say, I was very impressed. Cracking aim and swing.”

“Why, thank you. Years of carrying around heavy cleaning materials have paid off.”

They dwindled into silence again, but it was a content one. Anna’s heart _had _started to slow in her chest, returning to a more natural rhythm for the first time since the ship had hit the ice. Instinctively, she knew that Mr. Bates would fight with every ounce of strength he had to ensure her safety. She had nothing to fear, not now he was with her.

At least, she had nothing to fear until they reached the end of the corridor and realised that it led to a dead end. Mr. Bates swore again.

“This is ridiculous,” he growled. “It’s like a madhouse here.”

“There’s still the other way to try,” she soothed. Then, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. A little alcove. Shaking herself free, she went over to inspect. Could it be…?

“What is it?” Mr. Bates asked behind her. She ignored him for a few more moments, running her hand over the opening. It was a narrow, tight squeeze to be sure, but it offered the answer to the prayer she had sent earlier. Hunkering down a little, she wriggled her head and shoulders through the gap, straining her eyes in the semi-darkness. There it was in front of her. A ladder.

“It’s an emergency exit,” she said, her voice muffled in the small space. She wriggled herself back through, righting herself as she turned back to face him. He frowned.

“An emergency exit?” he clarified.

“Yes. There’s a ladder inside. It has to lead up to the upper decks. All ships need them in the event of an emergency. Well, this is an emergency, and since our other way is blocked, there’s nothing saying we can’t use this.”

“I won’t fit in there,” Mr. Bates said. “Look at the size of the hole and the size of me.”

She pursed her lips. “It’ll be a tight fit, there’s no denying it, but I think you’ll manage.”

“I can’t climb with my cane,” he pointed out in ashamed frustration.

“I’ll hold it for you, then.”

“I won’t have you putting yourself in more danger for my sake. I won’t let you carry it.”

“So what do you propose?” she said. “If we stay here we’re stuck.”

“You go up alone. You find Lord Grantham and you stay there. They’ll have to let us out sooner or later, so I’ll follow then.”

“We’ve been through this already,” she snapped. “My mind hasn’t been changed in the time that it’s taken to get from there to here. You’re stuck with me now, whatever you might think. If you didn’t want this then you should have denied me outside.”

“How can you say that?” he demanded.

“We may not ever be able to marry in the eyes of the law, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to treat what we have like a marriage in every other respect. You consented to that outside.”

“A man’s duty is to protect his wife.”

“And a wife’s duty is to stand by his side, for better or worse.”

They glared at each other. Anna could feel her temper simmering. This was absurd. She was rarely quick to anger, and the circumstances were simply sensational.

With a snort of laughter, she shook her head.

“What are you finding to laugh about at a time like this?” he asked incredulously.

“This. Us. The last thing we need to be doing is bickering like an old married couple. There’s plenty of time for all that.”

She knew that he was fighting the smile that was threatening the corners of his mouth.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “And I’ll concede defeat this time, if only to make sure we’re not still standing here like this if this ship really does sink. You go ahead first, but I give you my word that I’ll follow behind you.”

“If I don’t hear you coming right behind me then I _will _turn back,” she warned him. “So don’t you dare try to deceive me.”

He shook his head, his smile full of wonder. “My God, you’re a spitfire.”

It might be an insult coming from anyone else, but he was looking directly at her, his eyes soft, and she knew that her passion and fire touched something inside him. With the reluctant quirk of her own lips, she reached out to take his cane.

“I’ll be taking this, too,” she said. “I’ve had plenty of practice walking up and down the stairs at Downton with heavy loads in each hand, and I could climb trees like a monkey back home on the farm.” She made no reference to his own injury, not wanting to dent his pride. He seemed to understand it, loosening his hold with a sigh.

“Very well,” he said. “Go and I’ll follow.”

The first thing she did was slip her body in and hook the cane a few rungs up the ladder. It would only get in the way and prevent manoeuvring. Once that was done, she twisted her body so that she could grip the sides of the ladder in her hands. She kicked out with her feet for leverage, wriggling her body through the gap. There was more room than she’d anticipated, thankfully. She unhooked the cane, scaling a few rungs and clearing the opening enough for Mr. Bates to have room to follow behind her. She glanced down to find him with his head and shoulders through the gap, peering up at her nervously.

“Do you think it will hold both of our weights?” he asked.

“I should think so,” she replied. “It’s made of metal, after all, and it wouldn’t be a very good emergency exit if only one person could use it at a time.”

“It’s not a very good emergency exit to be boxed in like this.”

“There’s more room than you think. You’ll be fine.”

“All right,” he said. “I’ll trust you in this. I’m coming.”

It took much longer for Mr. Bates to squeeze through the gap. He was larger than she was, broader and taller, and his body did not fold with the same ease that hers did. She winced when he cracked his bad knee against the metal edge and he swore loudly, but he gritted his teeth and persevered anyway, despite the pain that was written in every line of his paling face. She had to admire his tenacity and stubbornness. Most other people would not put themselves through such pain. He scrambled gracelessly for the rungs, planting his feet on them, panting hard. She could feel his upper body pressing into her lower back, and suppressed a shiver with great difficulty. She had never been in such close proximity with a man before. It was electric.

But she could not get distracted by it.

“We should go,” she said breathlessly. “We’ve wasted enough time.”

“Lead the way,” he returned. “I’m right behind you.”

And indeed he was, every single step. His tread was clumsy and slow, and she heard the sharp intake of breath every time he had to bear his full weight on his weaker right leg, but he never uttered one complaint and she pretended not to notice, knowing it would only embarrass him. Being in such cramped quarters was not a pleasant experience, and Mr. Bates’ cane made it an awkward climb.

Still, miraculously, they made it.

Anna’s head popped out of the top, and she panted for breath, sweet air cooling her face. No one was around. It was like a ghost ship. Had everyone already got off? Throwing the cane to the ground, she turned her head.

“I’m going to wriggle out,” she said. “Do you think you can give me a push?”

Even though she couldn’t see his face properly, she could hear the blush in his words. _“Where?”_

“Anywhere will do,” she said. “I’m not going to scream blue murder.” She blushed herself at the thought that if she had it her way, he would be touching her in many different ways sometime in the future.

She heard the breath catch in his throat as he placed a hand under the curve of her backside. There was little time to focus on the tingling sensations that ran through her entire body as he gave her the boost she needed to fall in an unladylike heap onto the hard floor below. Quickly regaining her footing, she turned back towards him to find him pushing himself towards freedom. She caught his hand as he scrabbled for purchase, bracing her weight as she tugged him forward. In no time at all he was falling through, and they stumbled a few paces back with the momentum. Laughing breathlessly, Anna moved to swipe a few strands of hair that had fallen loose over his forehead, only for them to fall back in place. She was struck with how similar the position was to how they had been earlier, out on the deck beneath the cold, clear stars, his arms anchored around her waist for support, hers braced against his chest. If she leaned up on her tiptoes, she could kiss him. Spontaneously, victoriously. She wanted to.

But it wasn’t the right time.

Slipping loose, she held out her hand. A consolation prize. He seemed to understand, his smile small but reassuring as he collected his cane and wove their fingers together.

“We’re going to be fine,” she said, and in that moment she truly believed her own words.

Safety was close, so close she could taste it, sweet in her mouth.

\-- --

_01:15_

John panted hard as he leaned back against the wall, his knee screaming from the pressure he had put on it. He had never made it work as hard, and he would pay for it later.

_If you get out of this alive._

Anna was just in front of him, on her tiptoes and craning her neck in a vain attempt to see over the ocean of people. As they had descended higher, into the realm of the upper classes, more people had appeared. They had dodged and ducked through wave after wave of panicked individuals, never letting go of each other. Anna had a good head on her shoulders, keeping calm under pressure.

And, miraculously, they had made it. The first class deck. So close to freedom that they could almost taste it.

It was no more civilised up here. They might have been separated from the majority by money, but the aristocrats were no more dignified in their terror than the others had been. Women screamed and cried as they clung to their men. Others were almost throwing themselves into the lifeboats that were being loaded.

The situation was worse than he’d thought.

“Anna,” he said over the cries of the crowd, “we need to get to a lifeboat.”

“Right, yes,” she said nervously, turning to look at him. “We can’t stay here.”

Relieved that she’s agreed so easily, he tugged her in the direction of the nearest one. As they began to reach it, however, he saw that it was being lowered into the water. Swearing, he pulled her faster, ignoring the searing pain in his leg.

“Hold it!” he shouted. “Please!”

The men lowering it looked at him, and then continued.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he said. “I said hold it!”

“I’m afraid we can’t, sir,” said one of them. Sweat was shining on his forehead. “There’s no room.”

“What do you mean, there’s no room? It’s barely half-full!”

“Be that as it may,” he growled, “we can’t afford to risk putting too many in and capsizing it. The lady will have to find another one.”

“It’s all right,” said Anna softly, touching his arm. “There are plenty more.”

“But there aren’t, are there?” he snapped.

Rather than snap back, she cupped his face in her palm. Her fingers were cold, but her touch was incredible. He closed his eyes, letting his ire drain away.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t apologise. Now, come on, let’s keep looking.”

He nodded, lacing their fingers more securely together. They moved off, keeping as close to the railing as possible in the hope of pushing their way through the crowd and reaching the front. No such luck. Twice more they were turned away, left staring hopelessly as more half-filled boats were lowered down. John was on the verge of panic again. The ship was sinking, there was no doubt about that. If he couldn’t get Anna into a boat, then they would both be left to face the freezing waters. Anna obviously hadn’t noticed that it was mostly women in the boats. He would not be permitted to go with her, and he had internally accepted that fact. What mattered most to him was ensuring that Anna escaped safely.

In the background, a quartet of musicians had started to play. The lively symphony rang through the air, an almost mocking contrast to the panic that encompassed the whole deck. John knew why they were doing it, to raise spirits, but he doubted that that could be achieved now, when death was approaching fast for many.

“Mr. Bates, over there!”

John followed the finger that Anna was pointing, narrowing his eyes. Another boat.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”

He moved as quickly as his leg would allow, but it wasn’t fast enough. Even from the short distance away, he could hear the cry for the boats to be lowered.

Anna was slowing up, downcast. “It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not,” he retaliated. “It’s worth a try at least.”

She said no more, allowing him to pull her along. John muscled his way through the crowd, panting hard through his mouth. The boat was already too far down. Damn it! They wouldn’t bring it back for him now.

“Anna! Oh my God, _Anna_!”

The voice was clear and loud, startling the both of them. John began to glance around wildly for the source, but Anna leaned over the railing and screamed too.

“Milady!”

“Milady?” said John, and then followed her gaze.

Lady Mary Crawley was sitting in the lifeboat beneath them. Beside her was her mother, and they were both accompanied by the sour-faced maid. Miss O’Brien, John remembered.

“Anna, can’t you get to us?”

Anna shook her head, biting her lip. “It’s too far, milady!”

He saw Lady Mary’s expression contort, and then she spoke again. “Have you seen Papa? We got separated from him!”

“I haven’t, milady.”

Beside her, Lady Grantham made an anguished sound, like a wounded animal. John’s heart contracted in his chest, going out to the woman who had been separated from her husband. He remembered Lord Grantham speaking of his wife in Africa. There had been such a loving, reverent look in his eyes as he’d spoken, something unfathomable to John, whose own marriage had begun to disintegrate into foul ash.

“Come away,” he told Anna gently. “We have to keep moving.”

Anna nodded in determination, her mouth flattening into a hard line. She cast one last glance over the railing at Lady Mary’s pale, haunted face, before turning back to him.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Their joined hands tightened, and she led him through the jostling crowd, weaving her way between the bodies of terrified men. John followed her nervously, trying to keep his fears caged. They were running out of options. Just one glance into the sea let him know that a number of lifeboats had already been lowered, and he remembered reading that there was only a small number of them, so confident the White Star Line was of the ship’s invincibility. Perhaps this was God’s punishment for such vanity.

He focused his attention on the back of Anna’s neck. And here was Anna. Such a wonderful woman. He had never met anyone like her in his whole life. There had to be some way to get her off. He wouldn’t be responsible for her death. There was too much guilt following him around like a shadowy demon, and he would not allow himself to fail her too. She deserved better than that. If she hadn’t chosen to come to him tonight, she would already be away and safe. He had to ensure that her fate did not change because of him.

And then the crowd caught his attention. Anna stopped in her tugging when she realised he was no longer yielding to her, casting a half-quizzical, half-panicked look over her shoulder.

“Mr. Bates?” she prompted. “What are you doing?”

“There,” he pointed. “It looks like there’s another lifeboat there.”

It took a moment for the words to register with her, and then she changed direction with a sound of desperation, tugging on his hand. He limped after her as quickly as he could. He wouldn’t hold her back. Not this time.

To his great relief, the boat was still being filled when they arrived. John took over the pushing, roughly shouldering a couple of well-to-do men out of the way in order to reach the officers supervising the evacuation. The older of the two looked wary at once.

“Get back,” he roared. “You can’t come here!” Nervous sweat glistened beneath his hat.

“I need you to let this woman board,” John replied, paying him no heed. “There’s room for her, isn’t there?”

The officer frowned. “She isn’t one of those lot.” He jerked his head in the direction of the women swathed in finery, who were shrieking like banshees at the goings on.

John gritted his teeth together. “And that matters in a situation like this? Jesus Christ, have a heart, man!”

“There’s room for her,” interjected the younger.

The elder wavered and then relented with a sharp jerk of his head. “Very well, then. Get her in.”

Anna turned to him at once, her eyes wide. “And you’ll be coming with me?”

“I’m afraid not,” interrupted the elder. “Women and children only.”

Anna stared for a moment ,then started to splutter. “But there’s plenty of room in the boat! He has to come with me!”

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss, but those are the rules.”

She opened her mouth to furiously protest further, but John cut her off a different way, spinning her back around to face him.

The world around them disappeared as he took her into his arms. She braced herself against him, pressing her head urgently against his chest, as though she could burrow right through into his heart. His hands splayed across her back as he held her tightly, closing his eyes to savour the moment.

It couldn’t last. Nothing could last now.

He drew away when he heard the impatient call of the older officer. “Sir, we really cannot waste any more time! Either she gets into the boat now or we’ll have to leave her!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Anna said at once, grabbing onto his arm. “If you can’t come with me, then I’m staying!”

“Anna, don’t be silly,” John objected softly. “There’s no point in you staying behind. There’s a chance for you to get away. I want you to take it.”

“Not without you! I’m staying right by your side.”

But he wouldn’t allow that. Not now. Not when her freedom—her _life_—was so close. He lowered his voice firmly.

“You will do this. Our compromise below deck was that I would get you back to your family. They’ve already gone, but I can get you on this boat that will follow them. You’ve got to do it. It’s unfair of you to ask anything else of me.”

“But what will happen to you?”

A hysterical note had worked its way into her voice, so he took whatever desperate measure that he could in order to appease her. Cupping her face tenderly in his hands, he gently forced her head back until she was looking him in the eye.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ll find another boat to get on. All of the ladies must almost be loaded on now, and then they’ll let the men on board. I won’t be far behind you.” He didn’t bother mentioning the fact that he probably wouldn’t be allowed passage away from the sinking ship before the dukes and viscounts and earls had gotten safely away, with the few boats that were left. The hierarchies of society would still not be allowed to drop their rigid rules, even in such a crisis as this one.

“And if I do this…you’ll find me when we reach New York?” she asked him. He looked into her eyes. They were so blue, so beautiful, even if they were plagued with uncertainty. He wished he could drown in their depths now instead of in the icy water that was bound to take him within the next hour. It would be a death worth dying if he could.

“Of course I will,” he said, and his voice cracked over the words. “Now come here.”

He made to pull her head up to his and mesh her mouth against his own. How good it would feel to know that the last thing that he’d experience would be the taste of Anna on his lips.

But she resisted him. Her palms splayed across his chest to keep distance between them. John stopped short, confusion flashing across his features, and she reached up to stroke his cheek.

“I don’t want you to kiss me,” she said. Her eyes were beginning to brim with tears, a waterfall to add to the waves that were already taking the ship to her watery grave. John’s heart had stopped in his chest. Icy cold—cold much worse than the water could ever be—froze his veins. Ashamed, he began to pull away from her, but this time it was her hands that found his face, holding him gently in place. The tears had begun to fall now.

“I don’t want you to kiss me,” she repeated, “because if you do, I know it will mean goodbye. And I don’t want to say goodbye to you, Mr. Bates. Not now.”

Tears of his own began to well up in his eyes, and he fought harshly against them. They were the last things that Anna needed to see right now.

“All right then,” he said, and he couldn’t stop his voice from shaking. “I won’t kiss you. Not now.”

Not ever.

“Sir!”

The harsh cry of the younger officer shattered the moment, and John pulled Anna towards him for a final embrace. He buried his head against the side of her neck as her arms came around to hold him close. Just hours earlier she had smelled so alluring, of Lady Mary’s perfume and soap. Now she smelled of cold and terror, a combination that had John fighting against the bile that rose in his throat. Still, he cherished that final embrace, wanting to imprint the feeling of her in his arms to memory. If the end was fast approaching, then he wanted to remember something good about his life. Anna in his arms was the perfect remedy.

She was shaking when he pulled away from her, teeth beginning to rattle in her head. The temperature of the air had dropped several degrees in the last few minutes, although John wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the fear that was affecting her the most. Still, he began to shrug his jacket from his shoulders, wanting to do one last thing for her while he still could.

“Here,” he said softly, “take this.” He swung it round and draped it over her shoulders, pulling it tight against her.

“I can’t,” she protested, her hands brushing against his. “You’ll need it more than I will.”

John shook his head, keeping it snugly in place around her. “I’ll be all right. You can keep it safe for me.” He didn’t need to tell her that it would only drag him down quicker. She could keep it in remembrance. Or discard it when she reached New York.

Anna relented with a nod, opening her mouth to say something else, but was cut off by the bellow of the older officer.

“Last chance!”

John nodded, then pushed Anna forward towards the steward. The younger officer, now sitting in the boat, took one of her hands whilst John took the other, helping to guide her into the lifeboat and into safety. A lump formed in John’s throat as her cold fingers slid away from his, breaking the link that had been formed between them over the last few days, the last contact that he would ever know from someone who had meant so much to him in such a short space of time. Anna was sitting in the boat now, amongst the other women and children. Her eyes were full but her cheeks were dry. Her mouth was twisted in determination.

“I’m doing this because you ask it of me,” she called to him, “not because I want to. But now you have to do something that I ask of you. You’ve got to come back to me.”

He couldn’t reply.

“Lower the boat!” the young officer hollered, and the ropes slowly began to turn as the older one complied. John leaned forward over the railing to get his last glimpse of the woman who had brightened his life for a few short days. He fought hard against the tears that were threatening, burning dryly just out of sight. Anna was gazing up at him, her head tilted back so that she didn’t lose one second of him within her gaze. He didn’t want Anna’s last memory of him to be him standing above her crying like a frightened schoolboy. He managed a slight quirk of his lips for her benefit. Inside his heart was beating a nauseating drumroll. He thought that he’d be prepared for when the ending neared him. He hadn’t expected this fear.

“Mr. Bates!” Anna’s voice broke through his thoughts and he brought his attention back to her. She was still sitting with her head tilted backwards, his jacket drawn around her as though it was the ultimate protection against what was to come. Her mouth worked for a few more seconds before she swallowed hard. “This isn’t goodbye!”

John’s throat closed with emotion. A thin rasping sound emerged. He hoped that she could hear him as he answered. “Of course it’s not. I’ll see you soon.”

If only.

\-- --

At his words, Anna nodded, not taking her eyes off him until it became too difficult to strain her neck any longer. She never wanted to lose sight of his face, set in such exquisite determination. But nothing was finite. For the time being, at least, he would have to live in her soul.

She bowed her head and clasped her hands together beneath his jacket, his heady scent filling her sinuses and helping her to focus on her prayer.

_Dear Lord, please don’t take him from me…_

\-- --

John watched until the boat was too far down to make out Anna in the darkness anymore, and with a heavy heart he stepped away from the railing. The sounds of terror had intensified in the last few minutes. John knew that it was only a matter of time before the ship was lost for good. He supposed that he could seek out another lifeboat now, but he knew it would do him no good. Securing Anna a place had been difficult enough.

_This is not goodbye._

Anna’s parting words reverberated in his head, and his mouth twisted sardonically. She hadn’t wanted to believe that the end was nigh for him. Neither had he. She hadn’t wanted to accept that this was the end, that their parting had been their final goodbye whether he had kissed her or not. She could hold on to the fact that he would find her in New York, that their goodbye was yet to come, but John knew better.

_This is not goodbye._

But, oh, how it was.


	12. In the Eye of the Storm

_ 12\. In the Eye of the Storm _

_ _

_Monday 15th April, 1912, 01:50_

John stayed rooted to the spot for a long time. He could no longer make out the boat that had taken Anna away from him, so instead he imagined it in his mind. It had made it to safety. That was all that mattered. She had others, a family of her own in the form of her colleagues. She would be all right.

Around him, the pandemonium continued. The screams of women who had not yet made it to safety, and the cries of their children. White-faced men who hurried about with no idea of what to do or how to save themselves. John swallowed his sense of hopelessness, shivering violently as he turned around to survey the deck. His grave would be the ocean.

But still, shouldn’t he at least try for passage off? The promises he had made Anna seemed whole lifetimes ago, and yet only a few hours had passed between the most golden hours of his life and now. Could he really give up without a fight when Anna had been prepared to throw up so much for him?

The tiniest flame of hope sparked in his chest. No, he wouldn’t give up. Not yet.

Hobbling forward, he dodged his way through the jostling crowds, scanning the perimeters of the deck for any kind of way off. Jumping into the water, as some people were trying to do, was suicide. He could be dead just from the impact, and even then he had no hope of swimming far with his leg. It would seize up long before he reached any of the half-full lifeboats. And that was even assuming that they would let him on and not leave him to freeze to death anyway. All of _that_ was supposing that the shock of the water didn’t suffocate him immediately.

He paused, catching his breath as he tried to wrack his brains. No ideas were coming to him.

“Dear God, is that…? It is! Bates!”

At the sound of the voice, John span around, clutching his cane tighter. His eyes widened as he realised who was hurrying towards him, face flushed and tie askew.

“Sir!” he gasped. It was none other than Lord Grantham. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same!” the other man said. “But what a welcome sight you are.”

The feeling was mutual. He was still afraid, but suddenly he didn’t feel so alone. And nor did things seem as impossible. Lord Grantham had been a good commander in Africa, despite the senselessness of it all. He had been able to keep his head as clear as the best of them, something which John had always admired. Perhaps it could be of some use to them now.

“I thought you might have got off,” he said as Lord Grantham peered over the side of the boat, face darkening.

“There are women who should have their places before me,” he replied, voice set with compassion. “I will not deny a frightened mother and child their chance to escape.”

That did not surprise him in the slightest. Lord Grantham had always been an honourable man, prepared to risk his life alongside others. He’d seen it himself in Africa. John’s respect only expanded.

“I just wish I knew what had happened to my family,” he sighed wretchedly. “We got split in the mayhem. I have no idea where James and Patrick are, and as for Cora and Mary…”

“Your wife and daughter are safe,” said John at once, and Lord Grantham made a sound of such relief that it was almost painful to listen. “I saw them earlier. They were being lowered in one of the boats. The maid—I can’t recall her name, begging your pardon, sir—was with them. They’ll be safely away by now.”

Lord Grantham peered off into the distance, as though he could tell which one of the lifeboats contained his family. “Oh, thank God. Thank God. If they hadn’t…” His voice cracked, and John turned his head while he composed himself, taking a deep breath. “And what about Anna? Did you see her? She was nowhere to be found when the alarm went up, but I had hoped she might have found them since.”

John shifted uncomfortably, not quite able to meet his former commander’s eye as he remembered the conversation that he’d had with Anna earlier. They’d made plans to live in sin together. If only Lord Grantham could read minds. “She was…she was with me earlier, sir.”

Lord Grantham’s eyes widened. “What?”

“We were just talking.” He felt the need to defend them quickly, even though the talking had been anything but moral. “But I couldn’t leave her down there. So we managed to break through together and I found her a boat. She’s safe.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. I have a responsibility for all of the women in the house. I can rest easier knowing that they’re all safe.”

“Milord, I really think we should get going.”

The new voice interrupted their conversation, and John peered around Lord Grantham’s back. A younger man stood there, sour-faced and surly and scared. John recognised him. He was the one that Anna had mentioned with such disdain, the one who was constantly in cohorts with the strict looking maid.

“I suppose you’re right, Thomas,” Lord Grantham sighed. “But where?”

“I still think trying to find a lifeboat is the best option—”

“No,” his lordship’s flat voice cut the footman off halfway through. “I’ve given you my opinion on the matter.”

“But, milord, we’re going to _drown_—”

“I have every faith that help is coming as we speak.”

“That may be, but the ship is going down, milord, and no help is going to reach us before that.”

Shivers rippled John’s spine as he glanced down into the black nothingness below. Water was down there, he told himself, waiting to freeze them all. Delivering them from evil? Or cleansing their sins?

He didn’t want to find out. Not today.

The lively music of the band that had set up in the middle of the deck wasn’t helping. Every now and then he would catch a haunting note on the wind, as though it was coming from some far away place, tempting them closer. Sirens on the rocks.

He shook his head. Not the most comforting of all thoughts considering that the ship was sinking.

“Look, Thomas,” said Lord Grantham. “If you’re really that scared then I give you permission to try to find passage away. I’ll not hold you here against your will.”

The younger man looked torn for a moment, but to his credit he did not move. “I don’t think so, milord. I’m to stay with you.”

John knew how he was feeling. Every nerve in the footman’s body would be screaming at him to run, to weasel his way onto any boat that would take him and never look back. But first and foremost he was a servant. He couldn’t abandon his master now. If he survived and Lord Grantham did not, then he would have to live with that for the rest of his life. If he left and they both lived, then he would have to face his employer every day, look him in the eye and feel the shame of having abandoned him, to say nothing of how everyone else would treat him. Servants were to put themselves second, no matter the circumstances.

“We should try to find Mr. Crawley and Mr. Patrick,” said Lord Grantham. “They’re still on the boat somewhere. We shouldn’t be separated at a time like this. Will you join us, Bates?”

John wasn’t sure that he wanted to spend his time hurrying to and fro along the deck of a sinking boat looking for two cousins of the earl. What good would that do them? They wouldn’t be concentrating all of their efforts on trying to think of a way of surviving the night.

That said, what chance did they have anyway? Thomas was right: help would not reach them in time. There were no more boats. They were heading into the freezing depths whether they had a plan or they didn’t.

“I will join you, sir, if you truly don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to slow you down.”

Thomas very much looked like he wanted to make a remark on that, but Lord Grantham merely slapped him on the shoulders. “Of course you won’t, my dear man. Now, where should we look first? Back inside, perhaps?”

“I wouldn’t chance that, milord,” said Thomas. “We might get trapped there. Better to stay out on the deck, where we know what’s happening.”

John had to agree with the footman. “The water will be rising. I doubt anyone will remain inside.”

“So what do we do?” said Lord Grantham, clearly frustrated. “Just stand about here and hope that they go past us?”

The _Titanic_ answered the question for him.

Because then they heard it. The creak.

Several people around them started screaming anew. John had to duck to the side as a group hurtled across the deck towards the side of the boat, evidently thinking that now was the time to chance the water.

“What _was_ that?” Thomas asked. His eyes were so large in his head that John could see all of the whites of his eyes. The young man looked ready to bolt at any given moment.

Lord Grantham frowned around at the pandemonium. “I don’t know.”

“It sounded like the deck giving way,” said John quietly. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Thomas further alarm, but this was not the time for mollycoddling. “I think the ship is beginning to list.”

“What?” Thomas said. “What does _that_ mean?”

It didn’t require an answer. Below their feet, the deck began to tilt just slightly. Barely noticeable for now, but soon it would begin to increase in speed.

“The ship is capsizing,” John said. “It’s only a matter of time before it sinks.”

Counting the minutes to their deaths.

Thomas swore. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Lord Grantham glanced around helplessly, repeating, “I don’t know.”

“But there must be something that we can do!”

_Like what?_ John wanted to snap. The sweat began to burn hotly against his forehead. Anna sprang to his mind, her eyes burning with tragic hope.

_Find me when we reach New York._

And he never would. Struggling to swallow the hard lump in his throat, he turned away, not wanting the others to see him weak. It was then that he saw the small group of people clawing their way towards the back of the ship.

“What are they doing?” he murmured.

Lord Grantham turned in his direction, following his line of sight. “I’ll be damned if I know.”

Whatever the idea was, more people seemed to be latching on to the group, charging towards the other end of the ship as if their very lives depended on it, as if it would be the one thing that would save them from the icy depths of the waters roiling below. John remained rooted to the spot in stupefaction, wondering if he should suggest following just in case this madness had some merit, but it was Thomas who spoke next.

“I know what they’re doing,” he said. “They’re climbing the railings—look!”

True enough, the first wave of men had reached the railings, and were hoisting themselves over in a mad mass of flailing limbs. There they hung to the side like leeches to human flesh. John wondered how that would possibly help.

“And what’s that going to achieve?” Lord Grantham sounded as confused as he felt, but Thomas seemed to be one step ahead of them.

“The deck is tipping this way below our feet,” he pointed out, gesturing to the floor. “They’re hoping that by being as far away from the water as possible, it will lessen the impact when they reach it.” He took a shaky breath. “I think it’s the only way, milord.”

Lord Grantham looked to John for clarification. His thoughts skipped to Anna again. He hoped she would be far away enough in her boat to be unaffected by the ship when it sank.

“I think Thomas is right,” he said. “It’s our only hope.”

Their only hope in a hopeless situation.

“All right then,” said Lord Grantham. He looked queasy at the thought. “Let’s go.”

They dodged through the crowds, avoiding elbows and stumbling feet. John gritted his teeth as he tried to keep up with the pace set by the other two. His knee seared with the extra strain that he was inflicting upon it. He had already made it do so much it shouldn’t. Christ, he couldn’t do this too.

But he had to. He couldn’t give up just yet. Determined, he threw his cane to one side, leaving it to roll sadly on the deck. It would be lost at sea in short order. But it was of no use to him now. It was only holding him back. It might have been providing him with extra support, but it was cumbersome and got in the way. He had already almost tripped up over it as he hurried up the deck. If he could just make it on his own…

Lord Grantham’s strong hand clapped onto his shoulder.

“Lean on me, Bates,” he ordered.

“I couldn’t,” he protested.

“You can, and you will,” he said. “We’re nearly there now. Just a little further.”

He hated relenting, allowing others to see him weak. It was one thing he’d prided himself on: no matter how bad things got, he never let his mask slip if his knee was bothering him.

_Now is not the time for petty pride._

Ego bruised, he did as bid. Lord Grantham’s solid frame was a welcome crutch as they continued their climb. Other people were catching on too as the deck began to tilt more and more dangerously, its weight becoming too much to bear. Several slid past them, having lost their balance, fingers scrabbling uselessly at the smooth deck. John swallowed hard.

_Please don’t let that happen to us…_

They scrambled the last few feet up the deck. By this time John was panting harshly, his side searing with stich, his knee throbbing. Pausing, he took a few moments to catch his breath while Thomas swung himself over the railings with the grace of some predatory cat. Once he was satisfied that he was stable, he reached a hand back across.

“Come on, milord,” he said.

Lord Grantham turned to him. “You should go next. I can help you across.”

The kind comment cut through his ego, and he shook his head firmly. “No, milord. You should go next. I insist.”

Lord Grantham paused for another second, before relenting reluctantly, moving to clamber over himself. Thomas’ knuckles were white, showing how tightly he was gripping the railing as he reached over to yank at the back of his lordship’s jacket. He managed it less gracefully than the footman, but soon he was clinging on too, red-faced from exertion, but safe.

“Now you, Bates,” he ordered.

John took a deep breath to steady his nerves, adjusting his weight. It was easier to swing his left leg over first so it would bear his weight. He had no chance on his right.

He gripped the railings in both hands, wincing as the icy cold bit into his fingers and numbed them immediately. Lord Grantham shuffled as far to the side as he could go, giving him more room to manoeuvre himself. Gingerly, he swung his left leg over.

The ledge had never seemed so narrow as he tried to adjust his weight as best he could. Then when he was as confident as he could be that he was secure, he began to bring his body over. There was one heart-stopping moment when he thought that he might slip, but his lordship reached out a strong hand and grasped hold of him, keeping him steady.

“There we go, Bates,” he panted. “Nearly there.”

John was grateful for the added reassurance of his supportive touch as his foot found the railing. He shuffled to adjust himself, breathing a sigh of relief as he found his balance. Only then did he allow his eyes to take in the chaos before him from his new vantage point.

People swarmed over the deck like a thousand ants, clambering over each other in an attempt to reach the railings themselves. John shuddered to think of the poor souls who might be getting squashed underfoot. But the primal instinct for survival was ruling the ship, and there was no room for the weak. Thank God he had got Anna off in time. She was not weak by any stretch of the imagination, but he could not have borne it if she’d still been here, suffering beside him. At least he’d got that right in his sorry life.

Lord Grantham swore. “Dear God. Surely this can’t be allowed?”

Now that the lifeboats were away and the ship was being pulled to her watery grave, there was no one who could keep control. High lords in their finery scrabbled gracelessly towards the stern of the ship right alongside the men who they looked down on, desperate to find any place where they might be allowed up. Remaining members of the crew followed, pale and solemn.

All the while, the ship began to tilt more and more dangerously.

A harried-looking gentleman with a long, thin face burst forward. John watched as he surged up the deck, pushing people out of the way. He was headed straight towards them—and succeeded in reaching them. Hooking claw-like hands over the railings, he panted for breath, eyes wild beneath his bushy brows.

“Let me up!” he shrieked in a reedy voice. “Move over!”

John had witnessed this kind of panic before, in Africa. Men of his regiment, filled with horror when they realised that war wasn’t as glorious as it had been sold to them, squandering in the mud and the blood, watching their friends get blown to pieces or opened from throat to thigh right in front of them. There were experiences that could never be forgotten.

He glanced to his left, where he was pressed against Lord Grantham. To his right, there was nothing but open sky. Not a particularly comforting notion under the circumstances.

“There’s nowhere to move to,” he said. He wished there was something he could do. No one deserved to be left hanging, delirious with fright. But he was as powerless tonight as he had been in Africa, watching his friends bleeding to death.

The man released an anguished howl, clambering closer. “You liar! Move now!”

“Look here,” Lord Grantham interrupted heatedly, “try to move further along, we can’t help!”

But John could tell from the look in the man’s eyes that he was beyond reason or hearing, out of his mind with terror. He had a split-second to register what was happening before he reeled back with a cry, the slap stinging his cheek in the icy air—

His foot slipped.

For the most sickening of moments, his life flashed before his eyes. His mother with her wise old eyes, his father with his belt, Vera with that terrible smirk, Anna with her beautiful smile—

Lord Grantham caught his sleeve roughly, puffing as he pulled him back with all the strength that he possessed. John struggled to pull himself back, his knee searing in pain. Dimly, he realised that the man was still trying to claw his way over. One flailing limb could easily dislodge Lord Grantham too, sending them both crashing into the depths below. Lord Grantham had to let him go—

At the same time that John managed to grasp onto the railing again with his sweaty hand, the man let out a terrible shriek. It took several seconds for John’s shaken brain to catch up with what he had just witnessed. The man had tumbled from the railing into the people below. To Lord Grantham’s left, Thomas panted harshly for breath, his eyes wide and his complexion grey. He had saved them. Clearly it was the first time he had ever done something so extreme. If they survived this, no doubt it would haunt him more than his ordeal. Death and heroism was not glorious.

“Thank you, Thomas,” said Lord Grantham. Thomas said nothing.

Time seemed to stretch for hours as John clung there alongside the Earl of Grantham and his footman. The ship tilted slowly, like an ominous, stealthy predator creeping up on its paralysed prey.

Thomas whimpered.

We’ll be all right,” Lord Grantham said, with more confidence than John suspected he felt. “We’re up here, we’ve got time to prepare.”

John privately thought that nothing on earth could prepare them for what was to come. He closed his eyes, blocking out everything. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to feel.

But he knew the ship was falling forward. Vertical. His stomach swooned with the sensation, and he clung on so tight to the railings that he wasn’t even sure he would be able to prise his fingers away. Faster and faster, the ship tilted. He couldn’t look down. They were so close to the sky. _Nearer My God to Me_, he thought wildly. The band had been playing that earlier. People screamed. Even that couldn’t mask the ominous creaking of the ship as it strained against the pressure of its own weight.

_It’s going to snap,_ John thought deliriously, _Jesus Christ…_

And snap it did, with a final terrible wail. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as the ship careened forward. The screams grew louder, all he could hear, almost perforating his eardrums. John clamped his own mouth tightly shut to stop the scream that clawed at his own throat, his knuckles white on the railings. He forced his eyes open. He had to see now. Had to face the end right in the face. Had to see to stand any chance of survival. There were a few sickening splashes behind him, stopping some of the screaming short—and the lives. He didn’t dare look, afraid that he would be paralysed by fear—or worse, lose his own balance. He remained staring sightlessly ahead, refusing to look at the chaos around him.

All the while, the water rushed closer.

“Let go as soon as you get near the water,” Lord Grantham shouted over the shrieks. “It’s the best we can hope for if we don’t want to be sucked down with the ship!”

John nodded curtly to let him know that he had understood, watching the churning waves rushing closer. Any second now…

“Now!” bellowed Lord Grantham. John had a split second to fill his lungs with as much air as possible before he plummeted backwards the short distance to the water below.

The first contact was like the stab of a thousand knives all over his body as the water pulled him under. Darkness. He thrashed blindly, terror filling his body as it stung his eyes and his lungs heaved within his chest. He wouldn’t be able to catch his breath again—

His head broke the surface of the water, and he splashed frantically, trying to focus on the cold stars above as he got himself together. The noise was deafening, thousands screaming together in a deadly song. People were everywhere, writhing uselessly. An elbow caught him in the head, almost taking him back under. He struggled feebly.

_Breathe, dammit, **breathe**!_

They were fish, flailing in an invisible net, robbed of their oxygen. Some were already dead; they floated by like unmoored boats at the mercy of the tide. Their eyes still held the terror they had died with. Suffocation or heart attacks? The sight jolted John back to his senses. He couldn’t give up. Not yet.

Not daring to close his eyes in case he was taken unaware, he forced himself to slow, turning his mind to his saviour. Anna was out there somewhere, waiting for him. He imagined the soft caress of her fingers against his cheek, something that already felt hazy, as if years had passed since that moment. Perhaps he was already dead, was recalling a mortal memory.

But no. The pain was too real.

He forced his legs to move despite the pain in his right. Agony ripped through his knee, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through the barrier. He had suffered through worse. He could do this.

Navigating through the water with so many people around was difficult. At every stroke there was someone else there, trying to pull him under, clawing at his skin. He lashed out. The clothes were already stiffening on his body, weighing him down further. His lungs seared. He panted as if he had run a thousand miles, dragging in as much oxygen as he could. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

Large arms anchored around his waist. For a few seconds he floundered in a panic. It was too much. His head couldn’t stay above the surface—

Once more, the world was reduced to black, the pressure of the water pressing in on his eardrums so hard that he thought they might burst, releasing him from those screams of terror for good. His lungs revolted within him, demanding air, and he struggled as viciously as he could despite his bad leg. It couldn’t end this way, it couldn’t—

His head broke the surface again, and he sucked in a lungful of air between his thrashings.

“Bates! Calm down, man, come on!”

The words, uttered so breathlessly that it was a miracle he heard, broke through the fog of his brain. Lord Grantham. It was only Lord Grantham.

But the earl was clearly not in the mood for frivolities, for he tugged on him harder in an effort to get him to move.

“Can’t stay here,” he panted. “Too many people. Move.”

John forced his body to comply. Each stroke cost him more effort than he thought he had within him. Each time he thought of Anna and forced himself to do one more. He imagined the ice was burrowing into his very limbs, freezing the joints in place. He would sink like a stone to the bottom of the ocean soon enough.

But, somehow, they made it out of the crowd, splashing and flailing. Bits of debris floated past, broken remains of the once majestic ship.

“We should grab something,” gasped Thomas; it was only then, when he had spoken, that John registered that he was still with them and hadn’t been overwhelmed in the frenzy. He was glad of that. From Anna’s reports, Thomas wasn’t the nicest man in the world, but no one deserved to go through this. Those other poor bastards.

“Are there any pieces that we can climb on?” said Lord Grantham.

“Just grab anything, sir,” said John. “Anything that will help to keep us afloat.” He wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer without it.

“Make sure we stick together,” Lord Grantham instructed. “Hold on to each other.”

Easier said than done. John reached out for Lord Grantham’s jacket, forcing his frozen fingers to make a fist with the greatest of efforts. It hurt just to do that. He barely felt it when Thomas gripped onto him in return.

They must have made quite the sight, surging awkwardly through the water. Each stroke was torture. It was said that keeping moving was the only way to keep warm, but clearly they had never been in these conditions before; the water was freezing and no amount of movement would change that. Now his limbs were so stiff he could barely move them.

But he had to. He was frail, but not much more than Lord Grantham, whose feeble splashes barely propelled him anywhere.

The sound of the screaming had lessened further. More ghosts in the sea. His teeth began chattering more wildly than ever; he caught his tongue and tasted blood. Even that cooled within seconds.

The first bit of driftwood took them by surprise, catching Thomas in the neck. He jerked, almost dragging John down as he floundered.

“What was that?” he panted. His breath billowed in front of him.

“Wood,” said Lord Grantham. “Thank God. Take it, Thomas.”

The footman tried to protest. “Shouldn’t you, milord?”

“Nonsense. It’s nearer you. Something else is over there.”

Thomas relented then, managing to lift his arm over the top. It took several more minutes of struggling for him to wriggle the rest of his body over it. He was out of the water from his waist up. John dreaded having to do it himself. His bad leg would hinder him even more if he couldn’t get it to work up the momentum in the water.

Meanwhile, Lord Grantham was stretching out his arm for the second piece of driftwood—a wooden panel. He managed to catch it with the tips of his fingers, hooking it closer to him. John expected him to struggle onto it, but he did no such thing. Instead, he twisted around to face him.

“Take it, Bates,” he said.

“No,” he said at once. “That’s for you. I’ll be all right. Something else is bound to show up.”

Lord Grantham narrowed his eyes. “It’s an order, Bates. I was your commanding officer, and you’ll do as I say.”

“You _were_ my commanding officer,” he argued. “Sir, your wife, your daughters—”

“And what of your own family?” he countered. “I know you’ve got a mother. And your wife. You may have parted, but I very much doubt she would be glad to hear of your death.”

Lord Grantham didn’t know Vera. The years of bitterness had changed them both. But his mother…

And Anna.

It was the thought of her face growing gaunter and gaunter with every dead body recovered that made him relent—but only a little.

“We’ll share it,” he said. “There’s enough room for both of us.”

Lord Grantham laughed hoarsely. “Now is not the time for arguments, Bates, so I’ll let it slide this time. But I would never live it down if anyone knew that I was defied by my own batman, so you will swear blind that it never happened.”

John managed a laugh of his own through his chattering teeth. “Yes, sir.”

Together, they struggled half-on to the piece of wood. John curled his cold fingers around the end with much difficulty. They did not want to co-operate. He could no longer feel Thomas’ iron grip on his arm.

“Now what?” the young footman panted.

“Now we wait,” Lord Grantham said confidently. “The boats will come back and rescue us soon.”

John hoped that he was right.

\-- --

Time had passed. That was all he was aware of. He wasn’t sure how long. Here, in the water, every minute passed like an excruciating hour.

Most of the screams had petered out. The swish of the sea was the only sound that could be heard. Through his hazy vision, he marvelled at the way the stars streaked. They looked rather beautiful.

It was an effort to keep talking. The water had robbed him of his breath, and every word almost cost him more than he had. But it was the only way he knew to keep himself focused on living. Not that his companions were particularly responsive anymore. In fact, it had been a while since he had last heard Thomas say something. He uttered the young man’s name now. No response. John wondered if he had even heard it with how small and breathless his voice was. He turned his stiffened neck to his left, trying to focus his eyes.

The young man’s face was pale, a starker contrast with his dark hair iced over. His lips had gone blue. His stiffened fingers held him in a death’s grip.

Christ. John squeezed his eyes tightly closed, worried for a split-second that he wouldn’t be able to open them again with the ice in his lashes. Thomas was so young. He’d had his whole life ahead of him. Now it had been cut horrifically short by the choices of others, others who had decided to take this fateful journey without lifeboats for all. He knew barely anything about the man at his side, but his vulnerable face was plastered in the darkness behind his eyes. Gone.

Forcing his eyes back open, hardly aware that he had stopped shivering, he glanced woozily around. Still no sign of a rescue party. It was becoming more and more difficult to think. It would be much easier to just close his eyes.

It was over, anyway. He just hoped that it would be fairly peaceful. That was one thing. Thomas hadn’t seemed to be hurting. He was at peace now, away from the fear and suffering. He’d slipped away with neither he nor Lord Grantham noticing.

Lord Grantham.

At the thought of the earl, John forced his mind back into focus with the greatest of difficulties. Turning fully the other way, his heart plummeted into his stomach.

“Sir?” he said. His voice was hoarse and cracked, barely there at all. “Sir!”

Lord Grantham’s eyes were glazed and unseeing, but he stirred just slightly at the sound of his voice. Thank God, he wasn’t lost. Suddenly, purpose filled John. In an instant, he was transported back to Africa, with the pain searing through his knee, his blood gushing from the wound, knowing only that he had to get his commanding officer to safety. He had to do that now. It wasn’t quite the same as it had been—Lord Grantham’s daughters were grown up now—but he was still an important and well-loved figure. If John could do anything before he died, then he would save this man. Someone had to be on their way to look for survivors. They had to be.

He forced his arm to move, splashing water at Lord Grantham. The man’s head jerked in shock at the sensation, a little more life coming back into his gaze as his eyelids fluttered.

“What was that for?” he slurred.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “But you have to stay with me.”

“Oh, leave me alone, Bates. Bloody hell, you’re like a dog with a bone.”

John latched onto it desperately. “You used to say that to me. In Africa, remember?”

His lordship smiled dreamily. “Africa. I remember. A bloody nightmare, you were.”

“So were you,” he shot back with the camaraderie of old. For a moment he was transported back to Africa, the years melting away, until they were both hot-headed young men who wanted to prove their worth. War broke down barriers, and although John had never forgotten his place, with someone as good-hearted as Robert Crawley, it had been easy to show a bit of cheek. The young man had been more than a match for him. Closer than brothers during that time. The both of them stubborn beyond sensibility, it was no wonder that they had thrived on the danger, determined to put others before themselves.

“Africa,” Lord Grantham repeated dreamily.

“Your daughters were young then.” John struggled to remember the details. “Three little girls, one no more than a babe when you left.”

“Little Sybil,” he said. “A woman now. A handful. Interested in everything that she shouldn’t be.”

“You were hoping for another baby when you returned. A little boy.”

“Never did happen. Not for the want of trying. Lots of fun. But no baby.”

Slightly uncomfortable territory now. John forced the air out of his lungs and continued tenaciously. “She’ll be waiting for you again, sir. Got to stay strong for her.”

Lord Grantham’s head lolled to the side. “Your woman, Bates?”

“Separated, remember?” But there was Anna. Anna, with her luscious blonde hair, and those pretty blue eyes, and her soft, pale features, her work-roughened hands…what they would feel like touching him…holding him…

Lord Grantham’s sigh juddered through him, and he jerked back into reality. He had been slipping, nearer to sweet blackness. His heart pulsed anew, as if to remind him that he was supposed to be fighting for it.

“Wish I’d told Cora I loved her,” Lord Grantham muttered. “Before she left tonight.”

“You’ll get to see her again soon, I promise.”

Lord Grantham continued on as if he hadn’t heard. He probably hadn’t. “And my girls. Mary. Edith and Sybil. Home at Downton. At least I know they’re safe.”

“You’ll see them _all_ again,” said John fiercely. “You never gave up in the war.”

“Nearly did. You saved me.”

John remembered. The heat and the sweat. The cloying scent of fresh blood, its metallic taste in his mouth as his teeth cut through his tongue. His head swimming. His knee screaming. Warm blood over his hands. His lordship unconscious beside him. He floated on the memory. His lordship was beside him again, solid frame and frozen bone. Commander and batman.

And then he heard it, tinny, as if from a great distance. A holler. Someone screaming in pain? There had been so much death in Africa. Perhaps it was him. He had screamed and screamed in the dirty field hospital.

But no. The indistinguishable sounds were becoming words.

“Is anybody out there!?”

John’s rolling eyes slowly refocused, streaked and blurred but in the present. Light flashed in a slow arc, a tiny pinprick. Rescuers?

On the third yell, he tried to make some noise. Anything, just to let them know that they were there. His throat roared in protest, frosty dry. He tried again. Nothing but the faintest whisper of a gurgle. He was voiceless.

The voice was closer now. He could make out the faint splash of oars. A boat had returned. With the greatest of efforts, he nudged Lord Grantham. Perhaps he could do better. But his lordship only murmured. John swallowed hard. There was no hope. This was the end. The boat would pass them by as if they were nothing but pale corpses, and they would join the others drowned at sea. How he wished things could be different. To glimpse Anna’s face one last time, that wide beam that lit up her whole countenance. What a beautiful image to die with.

His head lolled forward again. The voice was growing fainter.

But then he saw it, at the very corner of his periphery.

The glint of silver.

Lethargically, he raised his head, straining his eyes, willing his brain to make sense of it.

A whistle.

It hung around the neck of some unfortunate man, whose lifejacket was keeping him floating like a morbid cork. His face was ghost white. His lips were blue. He was beyond saving.

_But he had the means to save them._

John had to reach it. Or at least try.

Agonisingly, he prised his fingers away from his lordship’s jacket, unsure if he could even manage it. They curled like claws and he hissed in pain as they came free, even though he couldn’t feel them.

Prising Thomas off was harder. John’s fingers, already clumsy, worked laboriously at the young man’s, who was clutching his waistcoat so tightly that he wondered if they would ever come free. Panic made him even clumsier, and he prised and prised until he thought Thomas’ fingers would snap right of like the brittle twigs on a tree.

They came away.

He would have sobbed if he remembered how to. The whistle was only a short distance away. He could do it.

It meant plunging into the water again. He had forgotten how bloody cold it was, even though he had slowly been freezing in it for God knew how long. Gasping for breath, he floundered. His legs had stiffened so much that he wasn’t even sure that they would ever function again. He tried to kick out, managed nothing. Christ, he couldn’t do it. He would drown like a helpless babe.

“Anybody there!?”

The lone voice had become so distant now that he wasn’t sure if he imagined it. Gritting his teeth, he forced his arms to move. The moving he had been doing up to this point had loosened them enough to function, and he forced them through the water, gagging when he swallowed salt water. His head ached and swam. It was almost as if he wasn’t in his own body, was floating somewhere above it. His legs trailed uselessly after him. He couldn’t keep this up.

He didn’t need to. In a few clumsy strokes he had reached the dead man. He grasped onto him, desperate to keep his head above the water. His fingers grabbed wretchedly for the whistle. No time to unhook it from the man’s neck. He thrust his head forward, managed to catch it between his teeth. The first time he blew into it, nothing happened. His throat was too raw. He whimpered. No. Surely fate couldn’t be so cruel. He coughed to clear his throat, even as it ripped it open. Wet his lips and tried again.

A thin, reedy sound burst from it. Not loud enough to be heard, but it was progress.

A new kind of madness seized him. He swallowed hard and tried again. And again. And again.

Until a loud wail pierced the air. Sweet, sweet relief brought frozen tears to his eyes. He’d done it.

He didn’t even know if the boat was still in the vicinity. Just kept blowing and blowing until he thought he might pass out.


	13. Until the Bitter End

_ 13\. Until the Bitter End _

_ _

_Monday 15th April, 1912, 02:15_

Face beginning to feel sticky with the tears that rolled down her cheeks, Anna stared sightlessly at the ship as the oars of the lifeboat took her further and further away. Mr. Bates was still trapped on there somewhere.

The thought made her heartsick, and she choked on fresh tears. How had her happiness disintegrated in such a small amount of time? Had it really been only a few hours ago when she had stood with him on the third class deck, convincing him to take a gamble on their future? Only a few hours since she had felt his bulk against her, the contrast of hot and cold?

Around her, the other women sat glassy-eyed. Were their loved ones still aboard? Were they praying for them, striking futile bargains in their heads? She drew his jacket more tightly around her, breathing in his scent. She would do anything to see him safe. Anything.

The screams were the worst. Even though they had traversed a fair distance over the water, they still rang loudly over the impossibly still air. What was Mr. Bates doing now? God, she hoped he had found some way off. There had to have been one more lifeboat, just one that wouldn’t have wanted to see him drown.

Then the terrible creaking ripped through the air, almost perforating her eardrums. Her eyes were drawn to the ship of dreams once more as the horror engulfed it and made it a living nightmare. A scream tore at her throat, her hands flying up to her mouth. She had to look away. But she couldn’t.

The lights had gone out like a candle snuffed in the wind. The ship…it was beginning to tilt.

“What’s happening?” one of the women cried out.

With grim determination, the officers tugged on the oars. Their little boat moved through the water to a rhythm of terror.

“Faster,” one of them panted. “We need to be as far away as possible.”

But _why_? Anna wanted to scream. They should have stayed here, been on hand if people needed help. Their boat was almost empty; they could accommodate more people. And if Mr. Bates was still out there…

She shuddered, pressing her face into his jacket, letting his scent overpower her, give her the illusion that he was close by.

The illusion couldn’t last.

More screams, louder than ever. A thousand voices mingling together, shrieking at the heavens. And a terrible creaking sound, almost as if the ship was about to snap—

Her eyes opened in time to see a sight that she could never have imagined in her wildest fears.

Carnage.

The boat had tipped vertically in the air, snapped clean down the middle. Outlined in dark against the bone white moon, it looked like some ghostly pirate’s ship. For a moment, time was frozen.

With a loud screech, the two halves of the ship splintered and came apart.

Bile burned her throat. Tiny spots—real, living people—fell from the ship like stones. The screams echoed louder in her head. She had time to register each and every one, a doomed choir. The water roared and frothed, rising up to claim the ship.

“Row faster!” the officer bellowed. “For the love of God!”

The ship crashed beneath the waves, sending water soaring like a tsunami in every direction.

Anna couldn’t prevent the agonised cry from escaping her throat. Several of the other women joined her.

The ocean had been turned into a roiling body of people. They splashed and garbled like sirens, arms clawing at the air, as if beckoning them to join. Mr. Bates could be out there. Tears froze behind her eyes. Panic constricted her chest. She reached out, seized one of the two men by the arm.

“Please,” she said frantically, “you have to go back.”

He looked at her as if she’d grown another head. “Are you mad!?”

“Look at all the people out there! We can help them!”

“Don’t be stupid, woman! They’d capsize us the moment we drew near!”

“So that’s it?” She was getting hysterical now. “You want us to sit here and watch them all die? They’re our men, innocent little children!”

The women around her rustled uncomfortably, but the man remained firm.

“Get back and shut your mouth,” he growled. “You aren’t a real lady so keep your thoughts to yourself.”

Colour rose in her cheeks, but she wasn’t about to give up so easily. Opening her mouth to argue further, she was stopped in her tracks by the second officer, who cupped her elbow gently.

“He’s right, Miss,” he said softly. “There’s no feasible way we can get any closer without risking our lives too. It doesn’t sit right with me, either, but we have no other choice. We have to wait for a little while. I promise I’ll go back then.”

Listening to the screams, Anna clamped down on her urge to sob. By then, it would be too late for most. She just had to pray that Mr. Bates wasn’t among them. How long were they expected to listen to people dying? How long did it take a person to freeze to death? Anna shivered, slipping further into Mr. Bates’ jacket. It swamped her, enveloped her completely. She was glad of that, needed the reassurance to cling on to and believe that everything could turn out all right against inconceivable odds.

She bent her head again. Another prayer couldn’t hurt her cause. With the screams for help still ringing in her ears, she conjured up some heartfelt words, for the safety of everyone on board the _Titanic_.

And most fervently for Mr. Bates.

\-- --

For how long they stayed there, she couldn’t say. All she could do was stare sightlessly into the sea, wrapped up in Mr. Bates’ jacket, listening to the gradual lessening of the screams, like the fading notes of a song. The _Titanic _had disappeared from sight, claimed by the sea along with the rest of the people it had carried. All lost forever. By the time she moved, her neck was stiff, the cold burrowing deep into her bones and making her ache all over. Had it been this cold before?

“It’s time,” one of the officers was murmuring. “We should go back, see if we can find anyone still alive, Harris.”

The distinct shape of another lifeboat could be made out as it approached. It drew up alongside theirs. Pale, scared faces peered out. A man stood, throwing a rope over. It was caught, and the two boats were dragged together.

“Everything all right, Lowe?” said the man from the second lifeboat.

Anna wanted to scream. How was everything all right? Was he really so insensitive to the destruction around him?

Officer Lowe nodded. “Everything’s all right, Poigndestre.” He turned to look out over the impossibly still sea. “In fact, I was just thinking that now is the right time to go back out there. There could be survivors.”

Officer Poigndestre snorted. “You’re bloody mad. There’s no point. The screaming is gone. It’s over.”

Anna’s throat seized. “No,” she croaked.

Both men turned to look at her.

“No,” she repeated, still so quiet. Her throat seared dryly, but she forced the words to come. “There’s a chance! There’s a chance!” A chance that Mr. Bates was out there. If she didn’t speak up, allowed them to waste their time floating here…

Relief flooded her when Officer Lowe echoed her. “She’s right. There’s a chance that we could save someone. If there’s even one person out there still alive, we can save them. It’s the least we can do.”

Sagging, Officer Poigndestre said, “On your own head be it. I won’t risk it.”

“I’m not telling you to,” said Officer Lowe. “I’ll go back. You’ve plenty of room on your boat. Let the women into it. I might need more room.”

Reluctantly, Officer Poigndestre nodded. “All right. Hold the rope steady. They can come across.”

A few of them stood unsteadily, tentatively bridging the gap between the two boats. Anna stayed where she was.

“I’m coming with you,” she told Officer Lowe. “I can’t sit by and wait.”

He looked at her. She tilted her chin defiantly, daring him to deny her. He sighed.

“All right,” he said. “You can come.”

At that, a few of the other women piped up, wanting the same thing. The rest continued into the other boat, pale-faced and sickly. When they were all safely across, Officer Poigndestre let go of the rope.

“Keep it,” he said. “You may need it. I’ll see you back here in a little while. Hopefully help is on its way.”

Office Lowe nodded. The other, Officer Harris, picked up the oars and began to row while Officer Lowe fished in the bottom of the boat for something. A flashlight, Anna realised. That was good. They needed something else other than the moon to see by.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Officer Lowe said softly. “And remember that some of the sights may be disturbing.”

Anna had seen death before. She had grown up on a farm, had seen animals die before her eyes. She had wept hard each time. Too gentle a heart, her father had said gruffly.

This was a thousand times worse. Death was everywhere, in every direction she glanced. Some of the women had already begun to sob. She bit her lip, tasting cold blood, desperate to keep her emotions in check. Young men and women in their prime. Elderly people with the most horrific end to their lives. Mothers clutching their babies in a tight embrace. Innocent little girls and boys. All gone, their lives snuffed out. The worst graveyard imaginable. The flashlight slid over their faces, illuminating them for terrible moments. Ghostly white, features set in eternal marble. She stared into the water, trying not to see. The silence was worse than the screams.

Officer Lowe stood at the helm. The flashlight moved in a long arc. No movement. No company but the dead. No sound but the soft break of the oars through the glassy surface.

“Is anyone out there?” Officer Lowe hollered.

The silence was his answer. Anna swallowed hard, drawing Mr. Bates’ jacket tighter around her. He had to have found safety. He was out there on the water somewhere, probably freezing without his jacket for extra warmth, but alive and safe. He had promised her that he would kiss her after this whole ordeal was over. He would not go back on his word, not a man of honour.

“Is anybody out there!?”

“We should give up,” Officer Harris said softly. “We’re too late. There’s no one left.”

_No_, she wanted to scream. They had to keep moving, keep hoping. In this mass of bodies, there had to be at least one survivor. The other women whimpered, evidently in disagreement with Officer Harris too. It was just as bad for them. They had husbands and sons potentially out there. Giving up meant abandoning them.

“Just a few more minutes,” one of them pleaded. “It can’t hurt.”

Officer Lowe swept his agonised gaze across them all before his shoulders slumped in defeat. “All right. Just a few more minutes. Officer Harris, start moving.”

“But—” the man started to protest.

“What harm can it do?” Officer Lowe snapped. “We’re not going to be rescued yet. We can spare a while longer, even if it comes to nothing.”

Shooting him a sullen glower, Officer Harris went back to rowing. A couple of the women had started to weep again. Officer Lowe’s words had done little to inspire confidence. Anna wouldn’t join them. She needed to keep a clear head. An optimistic one.

But the seeds of worry had been planted, and it was difficult to kill a weed. They just kept growing, smothering all life around them.

“Anybody there!?”

Officer Lowe had resumed his hollering. His cry echoed round. For a moment, nothing. As she had been expecting. Her heart felt as heavy as if it was tied down with stones, sinking to the bottom of the ocean with her hope.

But then, a miracle.

The merest whisper of a sound. Her head shot up at once, ears straining, her heart thumping back into life.

“Did you hear that?” she said.

Officer Lowe frowned. “Hear what?”

She hadn’t imagined it, had she? Hadn’t conjured it up in her mind, desperate for any success?

The second blast, stronger this time, confirmed her hopes. It rang on and on. And on.

Officer Lowe sprang into action at once.

“That’s a whistle,” he told them, widening the sweep of his light. “They were attached to the life jackets. Someone heard us. Someone’s still alive. Harris, row as fast as you can. It’s coming from the east.”

This time, Officer Harris made no argument, simply took the oars and pulled as hard as he could. The sound was still coming, weaker than it had been before, but still there. Still there.

“Keep an eye out for any signs of movement,” said Officer Lowe. “We can’t lose this. Not now.”

Anna turned her gaze back to the water, unblinking in case she missed the slightest movement. The sound of the whistle was beginning to peter out, growing weaker.

“There!” one of the women squealed. “I think there’s someone over there!”

The light was swung around. Sure enough, there was someone, moving barely enough for them to discern. Clinging on feebly to the man beside him, the whistle still clamped between his lips. It was as if he didn’t even realise that his rescuers were upon him. Anna leaned over the side, wondering if there was anything she could do to help. White frost cut a stark contrast to his dark hair. How had he managed to survive this long?

“Grab the rope,” Officer Lowe told Officer Harris as the boat rocked to a stop. “We need to grab the other end and drag him in. Ladies, distribute your weight so the boat doesn’t tip over.”

The instruction brought horror to the women’s faces, but they were quick to do as they’d been told. Anna scrambled towards the rear of the boat, heart hammering in her mouth as she watched Officer Lowe hurl one end of the rope over the water, as close as he could get to the man.

“Sir!” he called. “Grab the rope!”

The light swung over, illuminating the rope for him.

And Anna screamed, her entire body jolting with the shock before her eyes. It wasn’t. Surely it wasn’t.

But it was.

At the sound of her scream, the others in the boat with her jumped. Officer Lowe fumbled with the rope.

“I almost dropped that!” he panted furiously. “What’s the matter?”

She paid him no heed, surging forward to get as close to him as she could. Several protests arose behind her as the boat wobbled, but she barely registered them. Her sole focus was on the man in the water.

“Mr. Bates!” she cried out. “Mr. Bates!”

Mr. Bates stirred feebly at the sound of her voice, his head rising with an apparently huge amount of effort. Her knuckles turned white on the edge of the boat as he stared. There was nothing behind his gaze. He wasn’t seeing the present moment.

“Mr. Bates!” she yelped again.

“Do you know this man?” Officer Lowe asked her as Mr. Bates emitted a pitiful sound, his head lolling back down.

“He’s mine!” She hadn’t realised that the tears had started to pour until she heard the crack in her voice. Desperate, frightened. “He’s mine,” she choked again. Her man. The man she had promised herself to only hours before, had been willing to live a life of sin with in America. Tall and broad and majestic, now a defeated wreck.

At her words, Officer Lowe’s eyes widened. He looked back towards Mr. Bates. “Do you think you can get his attention? We need to get him out of the water as quickly as possible. He’s spent too long in there already.”

“I’m trying!” Anna sobbed. Mr. Bates’ lifelessness was scaring her even more now. He was supposed to be the strong one. “Mr. Bates, it’s me, it’s Anna. We’re here to rescue you. Take the rope, please!”

Once more, at the sound of her voice, Mr. Bates raised his head. She could almost see the words being processed in his brain, trying to make sense of the noise. His eyes were heavy and faraway. _But he was listening._

“There’s a rope in front of you, Mr. Bates. Can’t you see it? Go ahead and take it.”

He blinked slowly. Even that looked like an effort. Ice had crusted in his eyelashes too. She bit back another sob. She didn’t want to frighten him. She had to be strong for him.

“The rope, Mr. Bates,” she encouraged slowly. “You can do it. Let go of the man and come to me, my darling.”

And, miraculously, he did it. She sent a prayer up to God, fresh tears filling her eyes. But it was a slow, agonising watch. His limbs looked stiff and clumsy, un-cooperative as he first let go of the dead man he was clinging to, and then reached out for the rope.

_But he grasped onto it._

Anna’s sound of sweet victory was drowned out by the huff of Officer Lowe as he began to pull on the rope. His face screwed up with exertion.

“Jesus,” he puffed. “He’s a dead weight.”

Anna said, “Let me help.” Without waiting for his consent, she began to tug on the rope. The muscles in her arms strained and protested, but she squared her body and pulled harder. Years of hard service carrying heavy, cumbersome cleaning items had built up her resilience, and she used every ounce of strength that she had now to reel him in closer. Cold sweat accumulated under her clothes. Her breath seared. But she would not give up.

At last he was close enough to the boat. Officer Lowe let go of the rope and leaned forward into the water. His arms hooked under Mr. Bates’.

“I’ve got him,” he panted. “Keep back.”

But he was struggling. Anna could see it in the gnashing of his teeth, in the redness that was staining his cheeks despite the freezing temperatures. What if they both fell in? And Mr. Bates had spent far too long in there already. They had to get him out.

Without a second thought, she plunged her arms into the water too.

It was worse than being pricked with a thousand needles. The cold ate its way down her arms, strangling the breath in her throat. She pushed through that awful feeling anyway, grasping fistfuls of his saturated waistcoat.

“I’m here, Mr. Bates,” she gasped, “right here with you.”

He made a sound as if he had been grievously wounded, and it was all the incentive she needed to pull at him. He was leaden in her arms, but Office Lowe resumed his tugging too, and bit by bit they lifted him out of the water. It streamed off him in rivulets. She thought her muscles might burst with the strain.

But, agonisingly slowly, his upper body collapsed into the boat. Officer Lowe swiftly moved to pull on his legs while Anna lifted him as best she could. He weighed a tonne.

“I’ve got you,” she wheezed. “I won’t let you go.”

He moaned pitifully again, the only sign he gave her that he could hear what was being said. Officer Lowe tugged on him one last time—

Mr. Bates fell like a dead seal into the boat. The tumble threw her off balance, and she stumbled against the side. It rocked dangerously, but she barely noticed. The structure had bitten into her skin, starting right down her side. She barely registered that, either, burying her face into the lifeless side of his neck, grasping at him with shaking hands.

I’ve got you,” she choked over and over. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she pressed her lips to his cheek to mask her sobs. “You’re all right now.”

The fall seemed to have restored him a little. Stirring sluggishly, he pressed his freezing hands to her, his head dropping to her shoulder in return.

“Captain Crawley,” he slurred.

“Captain Crawley?” she repeated, composing herself as best she could. “I don’t understand, my darling.”

“Bullets,” he muttered. “So much blood.”

His inane ramblings were beginning to frighten her. While the other women clustered round, she tried to coax him back so that she could peer into his face. She didn’t like what she saw. Ghostly white features, made all the more shocking by his dark hair—the bits that weren’t crusted in ice, at least. His lips had gone a worrying blue.

“Hurts like then,” he said. He seemed to be having trouble forming words, his tongue thick and clumsy.

Of course. It made sense now. He had been shot in Africa, protecting Lord Grantham—

“Is Lord Grantham here too?” she asked urgently. “Is he still alive?”

“Saved him,” Mr. Bates said, but she didn’t know if he was in the present or the past. Nevertheless, if there was even the slightest chance…

“I think there might be someone else still alive,” she informed Officer Lowe. “Nearby. Flash your light.”

The young man did as he’d been bid. Anna refused to let Mr. Bates go, not now that she’d got him in her arms, but she strained her eyes in the darkness, desperate to find the familiar bulk of her employer—

And there he was, clinging to a piece of driftwood. From this distance, she couldn’t tell if he was alive or not, but she had to try somehow—

“Milord!” she hollered in his direction. “Milord!”

Was that…was that a flicker of movement at his name?

“You have to move closer,” she said desperately.

Officer Harris shook his head. “I can’t. There are too many dead in the way.”

“But there’s a chance he’s still alive too! We can’t just leave him!”

“We’ll help to move the dead.”

Anna turned at the sound of the voice. A mousy haired woman stood behind them, wringing her hands together. Her voice quivered and she was almost as pale as the dead, but her mouth was set determinedly. “It’s like she said. If there’s even a slim chance of saving someone else…”

At that, the officers relented, nodding in acceptance of the words. Officer Harris picked up the oars again.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

Anna remained kneeling uncomfortably in the bottom of the boat, clutching Mr. Bates to her. His freezing clothes saturated her own, but she barely gave it a second thought, attempting to share as much of her body heat as possible with him. She ran a hand through his stiff hair, pressed a quivering kiss against his icy cheek.

“You’re all right now,” she whispered to him in a mantra, as if repeating it over and over would make it truer. “I’m right here with you now. I won’t leave your side again, I promise.”

This was a promise she would keep. She would not allow him to turn her away again. Now she was here to stay, no matter what came in the future.

“Miss!”

Officer Lowe’s call forced her to tear her gaze away from Mr. Bates’ face.

“I’m going to lean out to see if I can get him to respond,” he told her. “Clear some room.”

She nodded. If she could drag Mr. Bates further up the boat, out of harm’s way…

But he was a burly man, as she had noted with a fluttering several times in the past, and the added weight of the water made it nigh impossible to move him. Her muscles corded and strained with the effort, her lungs burned. But she could not move him.

“Let me help.”

It was the mousy haired woman. Anna nodded gratefully. This time, she could move him more easily, half-dragging him to the edge of the boat where she could peer out into the water. She watched Officer Lowe reach into the water with her heart in her mouth, managing to grab Lord Grantham by his dinner jacket.

At the motion, his lordship stirred. So barely that it would have been missed if she wasn’t watching carefully, but it was there. He was still alive too. Mr. Bates had indeed saved his life a second time.

One of the other women came forward to help drag the Earl of Grantham aboard. Anna knew she should help, but she couldn’t. She’d made her choice.

Yet Mr. Bates wasn’t even shivering, just lay lifelessly in her arms. Surely that was a bad thing? But she had to keep a clear head, at least for the moment. If Lord Grantham had been with Mr. Bates, then surely Thomas would be nearby too? And Mr. Crawley and Mr. Patrick? Scanning the water, her heart leapt once more when she realised that her work colleague was indeed there, right beside where Lord Grantham had been, he too clinging to a piece of driftwood.

“Thomas!” she cried, her voice piercing the stillness. “Thomas, it’s Anna! We’re here to rescue you!”

But there was no movement. Not even the barest flicker. Clarity crashed over her in a fierce tidal wave that she hadn’t been expecting. Thomas was already dead. He had lost the fight.

The realisation knocked her for six, staggering, unbelievable. Thomas had always given the impression that he could wriggle his way out of any sticky situation. Wilier than a cat, more slippery than an eel, she had been sure that he was invincible.

Yet there he was. Lying there silently, stiff as a board. He had died with a frozen expression of fear upon his face. Anna felt more tears welling up in her eyes. She had never particularly liked Thomas. He’d been aloof with everyone but Miss O’Brien. He would bully anyone he thought wouldn’t stand up to him. William, the new footman who had started just after Christmas, was his newest victim, the young lad too gentle to fight back. But seeing him there, so young and vulnerable, affected her in a way that she hadn’t been expecting. He hadn’t deserved to die like this, alone and scared in a place far away from everything that he knew.

“Thomas,” she whispered again, “rest in peace.”

They couldn’t bring him back. His grave would be the sea. She didn’t want to leave him in this place. But she had no choice. Lord Grantham was in the boat now, a grotesque ragdoll. It was time to go.

Officer Lowe panted harshly as he collapsed into the bottom of the boat while the women took over, dragging Lord Grantham closer to Anna. She was loath to let go of Mr. Bates, but she knew she had to, at least for the moment. Whilst Officer Harris began to row, she laid Mr. Bates’ head down carefully, scooting over to her employer. He looked a mess, not a bit like the powerful man she was accustomed to. A blue tinge to his skin, mottled. Everyone thought that men ruled the world, but it was plain to see from this devastation that nature was the true conqueror.

“Milord?” she said, her voice quivering. “Can you hear me?”

He exhaled a breath, eyelids fluttering, but he made no comment.

“It’s Anna, milord. You’re safe now. Help is on the way. Her ladyship and Lady Mary will be thrilled. Just hold on.”

“…Cora?” he croaked.

“That’s right, milord. You’ll see her very soon.”

Like Mr. Bates, Lord Grantham was not shivering. His body had gone far beyond that. Anna chewed at her lip, casting a glance towards Mr. Bates. She wanted to wrap him up in his jacket, to force some warmth back into his body. But in the short time she’d had to learn him, she knew he was noble and proud and loyal. He would want her to give the jacket to Lord Grantham instead. If he was in any coherent state, he would do that himself. Mr. Bates meant more to her, but she knew that he would not thank her for putting him first. With a heavy heart, she shrugged out of the jacket, draping it over the earl’s prone form.

“There you are, milord,” she said. Then, turning to the mousy woman, she added, “Can you watch him? I have to get back to Mr. Bates.”

The woman nodded, shifting so that Anna could pass her. Anna slipped into her old seat, gathering Mr. Bates into her arms once more. She would try to keep him warm herself. It didn’t matter if he froze her to the bone. If she could warm him up even a little…

“An…na?” Mr. Bates’ voice was faint and raw, the pronunciation clumsy.

“Shh,” she soothed him, even as tears filled her eyes. “Don’t try to talk. Conserve your energy.” She squeezed him tight, feathered a kiss onto his stone cold forehead. “There’s time for talk later.”

The eyes of the other women burned into her as she cradled Mr. Bates to her like a child. She tried to run her fingers soothingly through his hair, but the ice had made it stiff and unyielding, and he didn’t give any indication that he noticed anyway. She knew what was going through the other women’s minds. A spark of happiness that someone’s man had been found alive. The resentment that twined with it, because it hadn’t been their men. The bitter grief that engulfed them, because it was a sickening certainty that their loved ones had not made it to safety. Anna did feel guilty in her happiness, knowing just how many lives were about to be torn apart forever, but it did not make her grip any less tight, didn’t stop her from murmuring sweet nonsensical sounds in his ear in the hope of bringing him strength.

The rowing back was made in silence, with the few women still peering into the water for other signs of life, desperate to have something to show for their efforts. Anna knew she should join in, knowing that Mr. Bates would want her to save anyone she could, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his too-still face, his frozen features.

The journey back was slow work. Even though there was little optimism for finding other survivors, the others’ hopes had obviously been buoyed just slightly by finding two men alive. The light continued to sweep in a long arc over the water, searching upturned faces for any sign of life. Out of nowhere, the mousy haired woman gave a cry.

“I thought I saw movement!” she said, pointing. The torch was swept over at once.

A man floundered on a piece of driftwood, his hand raised in a silent plea. A member of the aristocracy, from what Anna could see of his clothes. She wondered if Lord Grantham knew the man.

The two officers sprang into action at once, choreographing the movements between them with help from a couple of the women. They managed to bring the man aboard with relative ease, laying him out on the bottom of the boat beside his lordship. Neither of them looked majestic from where Anna hunched with Mr. Bates. She found his stone cold hand and rubbed her thumb against the back of it. Her working class man, raised on hardships, would beat this. He had to.

Their success emboldened the little rescue party further, and they continued their exploration more thoroughly, even on the way back out. They were rewarded for their efforts. Two more people dragged from the icy depths, both motionless but clinging to life.

But soon they began to leave the graveyard behind as if it was another world entirely. Anna swallowed hard and turned her eyes to the horizon. The calm water cut like glass. Little mounds, the other lifeboats, could just be seen with the light of the stars. They were still waiting for rescue. Fear cut deep through the core of Anna’s heart. How much longer would they be expected to wait? With every second that they were kept from the warmth, the chances of survival for the men pulled from the water lessened. No one voiced that thought, but Anna could almost hear it buzzing through everyone’s minds as they looked uneasily from the rescued men to the sea. Officers Lowe and Harris kept rowing with grim determination. Each pull took them closer to their fellow survivors.

Then one of the women gave a cry and pointed. “Look! That looks like a rescue ship!”

Hands were clamped to mouths to smother sounds of celebration. Anna sent up silent prayers as she squeezed Mr. Bates’ hand tightly, pressing her forehead to his freezing shirt.

By the time they pulled up alongside the other lifeboats, the ship had grown much bigger. It would be with them in no time. Far from the pandemonium that she’d been expecting, barely any sound was heard while it made its approach. Even the questions about their mission were conducted in whispers.

“You found people?” Officer Poigndestre said. “Bloody hell, I thought there was no chance.”

“Only five,” Officer Lowe replied quietly. “And they’re all in a bad way. They need medical attention at once.”

Anna swallowed the huge lump blocking her throat, blinking back the tears. They could do it. They’d both made it this far.

_Please,_ she bargained in her head, _God, I’d do anything…_

That was all she could do, as the man in her arms grew colder by the second. Time seemed to crawl to a stop as the rescue ship sailed closer. More lifeboats were lowered down the side of the ship.

“They mean for us to transfer everyone over,” said Officer Lowe. “They’ll pull us up from the top.”

“You go first,” said Officer Harris. “Get these men warm.”

Yes, that was what Mr. Bates needed. He needed a warm bath, hot tea to heat his insides. He would be right as rain afterwards. He would get better for everything he had promised her.

As their little boat approached the lifeboat that would take them to safety, Anna pressed one last kiss against his hair.

“Here we are, my darling,” she whispered. “It’s nearly over. We made it.”

Officer Lowe reached out and grabbed the boat, pulling them together.

“I want you women to get across now,” he said. “Officer Harris will follow. We’ll manage the men. Is that all right?” He addressed the last part to Anna. The thought of letting Mr. Bates go again sent the panic roaring through his veins. But they had to move fast. So she took a deep breath and nodded, easing herself out from underneath him. He gave no great indication of having noticed, whimpering just slightly.

Leaving him in those moments to cross over to the other boat felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest, trailing its bloody entrails back to where he lay. She settled down and waited anxiously as the two officers struggled with the combination of Mr. Bates’ bulky form and the rocking of the boat. Still, they managed it at last, and Anna was beside him again as soon as possible, slipping her hand into his limp one. The process was repeated with Lord Grantham and the others, and Officer Lowe followed them over, giving a decisive tug on the rope that held them.

“All clear!” he shouted.

“Understood!” was the faint reply, and slowly but surely, the boat began to move up out of the water. The ropes groaned in protest as they soared, and for delirious moments Anna thought they might break, sending them plunging back to the hungry sea below. But they held.

Several men were waiting to help them out of the boat, holding blankets up to wrap them in. Yet more surged forward when the boat touched the deck. Four of them grabbed hold of Lord Grantham, heaving him up and out. His head lolled to the side, his neck looking frighteningly like it would snap at any moment, but he gave no sign of even realising what was taking place.

“What are you doing?” Anna cried out, and then several more descended on her. Two grabbed at Mr. Bates’ legs while the others rounded the boat.

“Come on, Miss,” one grunted. “It’s time to move.”

“No!” she shrieked, clinging on tighter to Mr. Bates. She wouldn’t leave him again. She _wouldn’t_. He needed her with him, and she needed to be with him, to be aware of every laborious breath he drew.

“You’re frightened, I know,” the man said gently. “We all are. None of us were expecting anything like this. But it’s clear that this man needs medical attention. Let him go and get yourself warmed up. You look frozen half to death yourself.”

“No!” she repeated, pressing her cheek fiercely to the crown of Mr. Bates’ head. “He’s mine, don’t you understand? He’s mine!”

The men exchanged looks. Anna’s heart swung sickeningly in her chest, slamming against her breastbone. The man sighed.

“Get Campbell to help,” he said.

Anna barely had time to register the words before he forcibly hoisted her into the air. For a stunned moment she did nothing as her grip on Mr. Bates slipped. And then she began to struggle and scream as she was lifted out of the boat and carried away from it.

“Let me go!” she shrieked, hysterical, lashing out as best she could. The man carrying her huffed, but did not loosen his grip, hoisting her over his shoulder. She pounded at his back with her fists, kicked out with her feet, but nothing worked.

Around her, there was chaos. Women crying and clutching each other, men hurrying round with piles of blankets, distributing them as they went, trembling survivors being led below deck for a warm.

Her voice had gone hoarse from her screaming. People stared as she was carried past. She didn’t care. How could they not understand that she needed to be with Mr. Bates, to let him know that she hadn’t abandoned him, that he wasn’t alone? How could anyone be cruel enough to tear her away from his arms when he was hers and he might be dying? Her throat closed off at the thought, making it impossible to breathe.

The warmth of the inside gallery hit her full force, a shock to her system after the long hours spent freezing outside. The man carried her down a long corridor. The sound of voices grew louder and louder until they reached a roar; she was bundled into a long room filling with other women and children.

“Officer Ferguson!”

It was a young woman who was shouting for him, her face already shining with sweat.

“Ah, Miss Perkins,” he greeted her. “Just the woman I was looking for. Can you help me?”

The young woman was already shaking out a blanket. “Of course.”

“This woman is from the _Titanic_. She seems to be in shock. Can you get her warm, and fetch her some warm milk?”

“I’m not in shock!” Anna cried. “You’ve taken me away! Let me go back!”

Officer Ferguson ignored her. “Her beau was pulled from the water after the _Titanic_ sank. He’s been taken away for proper medical care. Until he’s assessed properly and settled in, he shouldn’t have any visitors.”

“I’m not just a visitor! He’s mine, he’s mine!”

“Take care of her,” Officer Ferguson murmured.

“Let me come with you, please,” Anna said desperately. He lowered her to the floor without another word, and the young woman bundled her into the blanket. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

“You need some dry clothes,” she murmured soothingly. “Your beau, he’s in the best hands he can be now. You’d only be waiting for word there. You might as well be warm while you do. It’ll make time go quicker, I promise.”

There was nothing she could do but follow along helplessly. Her heart ached dully in her chest, as if only the shell remained. She was drained, bone-achingly tired. But the tears wouldn’t stop, and the world continued to crumble around her.

Miss Perkins was wrong. Time would only crawl until there was news. One way or the other.

\-- --

“Oh my God, Anna!”

The sound of the loud shouting stirred Anna from the odd dozing she had fallen into. Lifting her head and trying to blink away the bleariness at the edge of her vision, it took several seconds to realise just who was hurrying towards her.

The tiredness seeped out of her bones at once.

“Milady!” she gasped.

Lady Mary Crawley looked nothing like her usual glamorous self. The hair that had been braided earlier was in disarray now, long strands of it hanging loose around her face. She clutched a blanket around her shoulders, but it did not hide the dishevelled appearance of her dress. And, following closely behind were two more familiar faces: Lady Grantham and Miss O’Brien.

In the next moment she was caught up in a fierce hug as Lady Mary reached her. Stunned, it took her several seconds to respond to the young woman’s embrace, but she too wrapped herself in her mistress’ arms. Fresh tears sprung as she breathed in her familiar scent. This whole mad nightmare had not ended yet.

“We didn’t know if you’d managed to get off or not!” Lady Mary gasped against her hair.

“I’m all right,” she assured her tremulously. “I got on a boat.”

“Thank heavens for that. The things we’ve seen…”

Anna looked over Lady Mary’s shoulder to find Lady Grantham standing there, smiling tremulously. She was pale, clutching a blanket around her own shoulders. Miss O’Brien shadowed her every movement.

“But what happened to that man you were with?” Lady Mary questioned. “Is he not here?”

It was impossible to swallow around the lump in her throat. “He wasn’t allowed on the boat with me.”

“I’m sorry, Anna,” said Lady Grantham. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head, bone-tired all over again. “They won’t tell me anything or let me go to him, or—”

“Wait, what?” Lady Mary’s eyes were sharp. “Anna, are you saying that he got off the ship?”

The words were like a slap to the face, and she shook herself. _Of course_. Lady Mary and Lady Grantham would have no idea about what had transpired. They hadn’t been there—

She seized Lady Mary’s wrist at once, not caring that it was rude. “He’s here, on this boat! He was still on the ship when it sunk, but he was alive and we rescued him. And, oh, milady, his lordship is here too! His lordship is safe!”

Lady Grantham’s eyes widened. “What? Where is he?” Her head swivelled frantically from side to side, as if her husband would appear next to her at any moment.

“I don’t know, milady,” Anna said miserably.

“But you said he was safe!”

“He didn’t make it off the boat either. He was with Mr. Bates. Mr. Bates told me that he was still out there, and we managed to rescue him, but they whisked him away with Mr. Bates. He’s somewhere on this boat, but like I said, they won’t tell me anything!”

Lady Grantham had paled significantly. “Did he seem all right?”

“He wasn’t in the best state, milady.” Anna hated the fact that she had to be the one to break the bad news. “He didn’t seem to be aware of much around him. But the people on this boat, they must be doing everything they can to help him.”

“Well, we’ll certainly see about that.” Lady Grantham, already a tall woman, drew herself up to her full, intimidating height. “Mary, let’s go and see what we can find. They won’t deny me, even if I have to use my title.”

Anna knew that it was more than the title. Lord Grantham was her husband. They had been married for more than twenty years, had raised three children together, loved each other fiercely. No doubt she very much felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest to be trampled in the dirt under their feet.

Much like she herself felt.

“Have you heard any news of Mr. Crawley or Mr. Patrick?” Lady Mary asked as they hurried behind the countess. Anna shook her head wretchedly.

“No, milady,” she said. “I don’t know anything.” She glanced at Miss. O’Brien. “But Thomas…Thomas is dead.”

The words stopped the lady’s maid short. _“What?”_

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I saw him myself. He was so pale and still. But he wasn’t alone, he was with his lordship and Mr. Bates.”

Miss O’Brien set her jaw and looked away, and Anna knew she was attempting to contain her emotions. For whatever reason, the footman had been the only person that she was truly soft towards. Should she try and comfort her? Cautiously, she reached out to touch her.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Miss O’Brien jerked out of her grip as if she’d been burned. “I don’t need _your_ pity, thank you very much,” she said. “Save it for yourself. You might need it yet.”

Anna’s mouth fell open. How _dare_ she? She had the right to grieve her friend, but to imply…no. She forced herself to swallow. Her eyes stung. She wouldn’t contemplate it. She _wouldn’t_.

“Mary, hurry up!”

The sound of Lady Grantham’s harried voice broke through the strained atmosphere. Anna blinked as Lady Mary turned.

“Coming, Mama!” she said. Glancing between them, she hurried after her mother. Anna was quick to follow. Let Miss O’Brien do what she wanted, she thought somewhat viciously. All she cared about was seeing Mr. Bates. Footsteps let her know that the lady’s maid was still following behind.

At last, they reached the end of the gallery. There were officers everywhere, and Lady Grantham grabbed one by the arm.

“Excuse me,” she said.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“You can, yes,” she said. “I am Lady Grantham.”

His eyes widened, and he swept his hat off his head. “It’s an honour, Lady Grantham. I’m Officer Goodson.”

But Lady Grantham clearly wasn’t in the mood for such pleasantries. “There were some men who were rescued from the sea earlier.”

“That’s right, your ladyship.”

“Where are they now?”

Officer Goodson shifted uncomfortably. “They’re in private quarters, receiving treatment.”

“Then you must take me there at once.”

“Milady, I’m not sure that that’s a good idea—”

She fixed him with a look that made him whither. “One of those men just happens to be my husband, so you will kindly do as I say.”

“Your husband?” Officer Goodson paled significantly. “Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t realise—”

“I’m sure. Now, will you show me the way?”

“Of course, milady. This way—”

Anna couldn’t stop herself from interrupting then. “And I need to see one of the others. Please.”

“Is he your husband too?”

“No,” she admitted, twisting her hands together, “but—”

“This man saved my husband’s life and was a friend of Anna’s,” said Lady Grantham. “I insist that you allow her to visit.”

“I’m not sure it’s a wise idea,” he muttered, but relented at the look on the countess’ face. “But all right. Follow me.”

The small group made its way through the belly of the ship. With every step she took, Anna’s sense of disquiet and worry grew. What if something had happened? What if Mr. Bates had taken a turn for the worse? He had already been in quite a state when she’d left him. Why hadn’t Officer Ferguson fetched her to be by his side? And why in God’s name hadn’t she fought harder?

There was little to be gained from berating herself, she told herself firmly—at least at this moment. She had to push her own silly feelings to the side. Mr. Bates was weak and alone. For now, she had to be his pillar of strength. If he needed to lean on her, she would stand tall, unwavering.

At last, they came upon a corridor of cabins. The area was quiet, a stark contrast to the rest of the ship. The thick quiet was almost oppressive. Almost death-like. Anna shuddered as if she herself had been dunked into the icy water beneath the bulk of the ship.

_Believe in him_, she told herself. _He survived in the war against the odds. He can do it now. He **can**._

“They’re in these two rooms here,” Officer Goodson said in hushed tones. “Lord Grantham is in this one.”

“Thank you,” said Lady Grantham. “May I see him?”

“Of course. There’s a nurse with each of them right now, but I’m sure they won’t mind giving you a few minutes of privacy.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

Officer Goodson touched his fingers to his hat and turned away. Anna glanced longingly at the other door. Mr. Bates lay behind there. It took every ounce of self-restraint that she had not to throw open it and barrel inside. But she was still a servant. It would be unforgivable if she didn’t pay her respects to his lordship first. So, chewing on her lip in a desperate attempt to stop herself from breaking down and begging to be excused, she followed the other three women into the room.

The nurse who had been sitting at the bedside sprang to her feet at once.

“Can I help you?” she said.

“My name is Lady Grantham,” said her ladyship. “This is my husband.”

The nurse’s eyes widened. “Your husband?”

“That’s right. Would it be possible for me to spend a few minutes alone with him?”

“Of course,” she said. “Milady,” she added uncertainly.

“Thank you. You can wait outside.”

The nurse didn’t move immediately. “He has hypothermia, you know. I shouldn’t be away from him long.”

Anna’s own shuddering breath drowned out Lady Grantham’s. Hypothermia. If his lordship had it, then it was almost inevitable that Mr. Bates would too. They had spent so long in the water, freezing…

“Can you tell me how bad?” Lady Grantham asked quietly.

“It’s hard to assess properly, milady. It has its bouts and turns. We’ll do everything we can for him…but we can’t make any promises.”

Anna squeezed her eyes tightly closed. No promises. But Mr. Bates had made promises to _her_. He couldn’t let her down now.

The nurse left then. As soon as the door was pulled to, the stoic mask that Lady Grantham had kept in place for so long snapped. No longer was she the Countess of Grantham. Now she was simply a woman whose husband was in a very bad way.

“Oh, my darling,” she breathed, her voice full of tears. She made her way over to the chair that the nurse had just vacated, sinking into it and reaching out for one of Lord Grantham’s hands. Lady Mary shadowed her every movement, leaving Anna and Miss O’Brien on the periphery.

Anna was offered her first view of her employer. His skin was deathly pale still, but he seemed to be responding as Lady Grantham slipped her hand into his.

“How are you, my sweet?” she asked, sweeping his sweaty hair from his forehead.

“Feel like hell,” he rasped.

Anna was surprised to hear his voice. She had been expecting him to simply lie there, offering nothing. He seemed to be faring better than she’d been expecting, which was an utter relief. Perhaps Mr. Bates would be the same.

“You have no idea how glad I am that you’re here,” Lady Grantham said.

“And you have no idea how glad I am that _you’re_ here,” he replied. “Thank God you got off all right.”

Lady Grantham brought his hand to her mouth, kissing his knuckles. “For a while, I was afraid of the worst. Especially when…” Her voice trailed off.

“Is there any news of the others?”

“Not yet. James and Patrick haven’t shown up anywhere…”

“No,” he breathed. “This can’t be.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“And what of Thomas? And Bates? They were both with me.”

Lady Grantham glanced behind her. Anna took it as her cue to step forward.

“Thomas didn’t make it, milord,” she said softly.

He swore softly.

“He’s in peace now, at least,” she said, trying to ignore the derisive snort from Miss O’Brien.

“And Bates?” His lordship almost looked afraid to ask.

“I don’t know, milord. He managed to alert us to you all by blowing a whistle and he was rescued with you, but I’ve not seen him since we got here. He’s next door.”

“Then go to him. Keep him company. And thank him for what he did.”

It was all the encouragement she needed. “I will. And can I say how glad I am to see you like this?”

“Not as glad as me,” he joked weakly, before turning to his family. “And you, darling Mary…”

Anna withdrew quietly, not wishing to intrude upon the private family moment for a second longer. Her heart thundered anew. Slowly, she moved towards the next room. Mr. Bates was there. Her hands rattled the doorknob as she moved to undo it.

The smell was the first thing that hit her. Cold and sweat and sickness. It cloyed her nostrils, choked her lungs.

The nurse in the room span to face her as soon as she stood in the threshold.

“Yes?” she said. “Who on earth are you?”

Anna barely paid her any mind, her gaze drifting to the bed that Mr. Bates was occupying. Her throat closed again, this time from fright.

He looked nothing like the strong and powerful man she had grown accustomed to in the last few days. The slain Goliath, that was what he was. Pasty-faced, his eyes were closed. She could _hear_ the effort it was taking him to breathe, the sound nasally and laborious. He looked oddly boyish, lying there. Anna could almost imagine him ten years previous, in some stinking field hospital as he lost the full use of his right leg. What was the cost to be this time?

“Excuse me, I asked you a question.”

As if in a dream, Anna gradually became aware of her surroundings again. The nurse was scowling at her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “You’re not qualified.”

“He’s mine.” The words, repeated so many times now, came out in a rush. Anna took a shuddering breath even as she wanted to burst into tears, and forced herself to calm. “We were separated when the _Titanic_ sank, but he was pulled out of the water. I’ve been waiting hours to see him again, but I couldn’t bear it a minute longer. Please, let me stay with him a moment.”

The nurse sighed. Her expression had softened. “Two minutes, that’s your lot. I should warn you, though: he’s very weak. The time in the water has taken it out of him.”

“I know,” Anna said quietly. “Hypothermia, isn’t it? Lord Grantham has it too.”

The nurse stared at her. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’ll wait outside.”

“Thank you,” Anna breathed, already moving towards the bed. There was a little chair, and she sank into it, her eyes darting as she tried to take in as much of him as possible. The sheets were tucked in tight around him. His forehead glistened with sweat. She touched her fingers to his skin. Cold and clammy. He was running a fever. One of his hands rested limply on top of the bedspread. She reached for it, cupping his wrist with one hand while she laced her fingers through his lifeless ones.

“Mr. Bates,” she whispered, “can you hear me?”

He made no movement. Tears filled her eyes. No, this couldn’t be. How could he be in a worse state than his lordship? The other man had spent longer in the water, he’d been too weak to call for help…

“You were the one doing the fighting,” she said. “Don’t you dare give up on me now. Don’t you dare.”

Still Mr. Bates made no movement. She made a study of his face. A little raw cut on his cheek. The thin lines, that strong jaw. She longed to run her fingers over it, but she wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until he could enjoy it.

His things were laid out neatly on the table, the lone things he had been carrying when he was dragged from the water. His pocket watch was there, broken. And so was her lucky charm. The little bear regarded her with sad eyes. It was stained now, a little discoloured. But the sight of it buoyed her. He’d been carrying it when the ship had gone down, and here he was. Alive. Perhaps the little stuffed animal had more magic than she’d ever realised. Trembling, she reached for it and took a moment to stroke the coarse material before pressing it into Mr. Bates’ chest. It would do a better job if it was with him.

“I believe in you, you know,” she said, softer this time. “You’ll fight for the things we promised.”

“Miss?”

The sound of the nurse’s voice broke through the moment. Brushing the tears from the corners of her eyes, she called for her to come in.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now,” she said apologetically. “I need to see if there’s any way of bringing his temperature down.”

Anna’s heart sank. “But I can visit again?”

“You can,” she confirmed. “Provided he is strong enough, of course.”

“Did you hear that, Mr. Bates?” she whispered. “I’ll be back very soon. You concentrate on getting better in the meantime, and know that I’ll be right here with you.” She stood up, leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. She lingered for longer than was necessary, breathing in the clammy scent of his skin, nothing like it had been earlier.

“Miss.”

“I’m coming.”

She stepped away, never taking her eyes from him until she reached the door. The nurse laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Hoping and keeping your spirits up is the best that you can do for him now,” she said.

Anna glanced back at his prone form.

“I can do that,” she said.

And pray for a miracle too.

\-- --

_Thursday 18th April, 1912, 21:10_

The next three days passed in a blur as they inched ever closer to the New World. With every hour that passed, there was little change in Mr. Bates.

With every hour that passed, her hope failed a little more.

It hurt more to see Lord Grantham growing stronger.

She didn’t begrudge him, and was happy beyond measure for them all. Lady Grantham’s face was glowing with so much joy that it seemed wrong to intrude upon it, and even Lady Mary smiled freely, overwhelmingly relieved that her father was recovering. They told her stories of how he was sitting up a touch, keeping down his soup, less feverish, lucid in his short conversations between sleep.

And Anna’s heart wept anew.

For a golden hour each day, she sat by Mr. Bates’ side, gripping his hand in hers, uncaring that it was sweaty and not entirely comfortable. She talked nonsense to him in the hope that it would force him to do better, anecdotes from her childhood, from her life at Downton. Confessions of her impressions of him. Thoughts on what their life together would be like, domestic bliss.

Each day he barely shifted, hardly seemed to recognise her.

“We’re doing everything we can for him,” the nurse told her. “He’s got blankets, hot drinks, a warm environment…”

None of it appeared to be working well.

Along with the other passengers on the ship, there wasn’t enough room for all of them. Many of the survivors from the _Titanic_ spent their time bundled together, mixing ranks, surviving in their own personal hells. It was rarely quiet with the crying and the screaming children. Food was plain and tasteless. None of that mattered to Anna. The time spent in those closed quarters was spent alone, face turned to the wall, lost in her thoughts. How she wished things were different. But nothing was changing.

Until this particular night. The night when they would dock in America, if the whispers were to be believed.

Anna had been dozing fitfully when the nurse came to her; there was little else to do but sleep and grieve. When her shoulders were shaken she pushed herself upright at once.

“Nurse Masters?” she gasped, rubbing frantically at her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Nurse Masters’ face was pale and harried. Dread settled in the pit of Anna’s stomach like poisoned lead.

“It’s Mr. Bates,” she whispered urgently. “He’s asking for you.”

The words woke her up properly, and she sprang unsteadily to her feet. “What? He’s awake?”

Nurse Masters bit her lip. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly? What does that mean?”

The young woman didn’t answer. The sickening dread intensified until it nearly overwhelmed her.

“No,” she whispered.

“You need to come with me, Miss Smith. Right now.”

The fear soured her mouth like iron, but she nodded. He needed her now. She’d be there for him, just as she’d promised.

They hurried between the masses of people together. Once, she almost stumbled over someone’s legs, ignored the slurred insult aimed at her. Everything else simply paled into insignificance.

“Anna! Where are you going? Anna!”

Lady Mary. She ignored her mistress for the first time, racing out of the gallery with the nurse. By the time they reached Mr. Bates’ cabin they were both panting. Stitch seared in Anna’s side. She tucked the strands of her hair that had come loose behind her ears, took a breath to steady herself. Nurse Masters stepped aside for her. Swallowing the tears that burned her throat, she pushed open the door.

The sight that met her shattered her heart.

Mr. Bates, saturated with sweat. He had kicked the sheets off. His face was twisted as if he was in great pain. The laborious sound of his breaths rattled in his lungs.

“Mr. Bates!” she cried. Without another moment’s hesitation she crossed the room to his side, seizing the sheets to bring them back up around him. He thrashed deliriously, but she held firm, like calming a bolting horse as she might have on the family farm. There was barely any strength behind his movements anyway.

“I’m here,” she murmured over and over, pressing her mouth to his sweat-soaked hair. Then, to the nurse, added, “How bad?”

Nurse Masters wrung her hands. “It’s hard to say. He took a turn for the worse only a few minutes ago. I don’t know what triggered it, or…”

“Will he be all right?” she demanded to know. “That’s all I care about.”

“I don’t know,” the nurse admitted. “If he keeps fighting…”

“You hear that?” she said fiercely. “Keep fighting, Mr. Bates. You promised me.”

“An…na?”

His voice took her completely by surprise. She hadn’t expected it though she’d been told that he was asking for her, thought he’d been too weak to formulate words or even understand his surroundings. She grappled more firmly with his hand, pulled the seat as close to the bed as possible.

“Yes, Mr. Bates,” she said. “I’m here, my darling.”

His sweaty brow screwed up with effort as he tried to voice his needs. She smoothed the hair from his forehead, fumbled for the glass on the little table beside his bed.

“Here,” she said softly, “sit up a bit.”

His limbs were like water, and he flopped bonelessly. She slipped her arm around him, guided him towards the glass like a new born to its mother’s breast. He drank greedily, the liquid spilling over his chin in his eagerness. When she eased him back, she took her handkerchief and tenderly wiped his chin. His heavy gaze sought hers, but he didn’t seem to be seeing her.

“Don’t try and talk,” she soothed. A washcloth sat on the bedside cabinet, along with a bowl of water. She dipped the rag in, wrung it, and mopped his forehead. He wriggled as the droplets ran down his face.

“Have…to,” he wheezed.

“No, save your energy for when you’re better.”

“Won’t _be_ better,” he panted.

It would have hurt less to have her still-beating heart ripped from her chest. Anna’s breath stopped short, as if death itself had plucked it from her lungs. For a panicked moment, she thought she would never find it again, would perish with him right there. Gripping his hand tighter, she struggled to find the words, anything to make him fight.

“You _will_ get better,” she said. “Remember what we promised each other? A whole new life, Mr. Bates. A fresh start in America.”

“America,” he sighed.

“That’s right,” she said. Leaning in closer so that her mouth brushed his ear, she whispered, “We’re so close to it now, darling. It’s all ahead of us. A little home of our own. _Children_.” Tears threatened again. Her voice trembled. “So much happiness we won’t know what to do with it.”

Those horrible, wheezing breaths were the only thing she could hear above the thrum of blood in her head. His eyes, only half-open, were milky. Was he really seeing her? She slid her palm to his cheek, bringing his face round to hers.

“Anna?”

She hadn’t even heard the door opening, whipped her head round to see who had entered. Lady Mary. She stayed by the door, her face pale and drawn. Nurse Masters had followed her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “When you went running…”

“It’s Mr. Bates,” she said. To her horror, her voice broke. And then the tears came flooding. “He’s…he’s…”

Lady Mary seemingly understood what she was trying to say. Her own voice shook. “But surely—”

Anna took a deep breath, biting back her snap by sinking her teeth deep into her tongue. It was all right for her: _her_ father was going to recover. But for her…

Mr. Bates grunted wheezily, his head falling back against the pillow. There was barely any light left in his eyes. Fading.

But, weakly, his fingers spasmed against hers, lighter than the touch of a butterfly. She barely acknowledged Lady Mary stepping closer, her entire attention focused on the man in front of her. His warm, clammy hand held hers.

“Want you…to be happy,” he said.

Something inside her—some small, glass case keeping her heart guarded—broke. Scalding tears ran down her cheeks, her bottom lip wobbling so hard that she could barely form words.

“How can I be happy?” she sobbed. “You _promised_ me.”

“Find…someone nice,” he gasped. “Happy family.”

“I _can’t_,” she said, agonised. “There’s only ever been you—”

The adrenaline coursed through her body. Even through her utter grief, there was one thing strong in her mind. If this was going to be her last chance, then she had to take it. Pushing the hair from his brow and urging his lax face up to hers, she smoothed her thumb across his cheekbone.

“I can’t be happy,” she repeated. “Because…because I love you, Mr. Bates.”

Behind her, she heard Lady Mary’s sharp intake of breath, mingling with Nurse Masters’ agonised sigh. She did not turn. What did it matter who knew now? He was leaving her…

Mr. Bates’ face constricted with pain, but she didn’t think it was physical. “Don’t…say that.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “I’ll not lie to you, not now. Nothing has ever been truer.”

“You can’t…know.”

“I can. It’s true and it’s never going to change. Don’t let me down, please.”

His eyes fluttered. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, but no sound came out. Everything they’d planned together, gone in a single blow from an iceberg.

Her eyes drifted to the sheets, and the familiar brown fur caught her attention. Her lucky charm. It was still tangled in the sheets with him, but it appeared that its powers had failed her when she’d needed them the most. Twin tears fell. Why had it been cruel enough to save him from the water, only to take him from her now? She couldn’t bear to look at the sad old thing any longer.

Mr. Bates’ eyes had closed fully now. And his hand…his hand slipped from hers. Limp. Lifeless.

It was over.

With a wail, she stumbled back from her chair, almost knocking it over in the process. Tears fell hard and fast, and she pressed a fist to her mouth. Mr. Bates remained unresponsive.

She had to get away. She couldn’t be here when they pronounced him dead. She couldn’t stand there and listen as she was told that the dreams that had slowly formed over the past week would never materialise, that the children would remain ghosts in her womb, that she would have to live seventy years with just the memory of his face that would fade a little more with every day that passed until it was as if their paths had never crossed in the first place. She was not strong enough for any of that. A part of her knew that she was weak, cowardly, breaking when he needed her to be the strongest she’d ever been. But she wasn’t that strong.

She almost knocked Lady Mary clean off her feet in her haste to get out the door. The young woman stumbled out of the way as she barrelled into the corridor, and called after her worriedly. Anna didn’t stop to reply. She dodged as best she could between bodies with the tears blinding her vision. The walls crept nearer and nearer, closing in on her. Whimpering, she burst through the nearest door.

And found herself on deck. Panting harshly, she wilted against the railings. She sobbed all over again. Mr. Bates was gone. Their life together was over before it had even begun. She hadn’t even got to kiss him goodbye. She should have let him on the deck of the _Titanic_. At least then she would have had that one touch, that one concrete memory. She would have had one real thing that could never be prised from her.

There were more people on the deck with her, but they paid her no mind, too wrapped up in their own grief. Heavy droplets of rain had started to fall, a stark contrast to the hot tears swelling her cheeks.

And then it rose in the fog like a mocking copy of the iceberg that had ended her life. Her breath hitched on yet another sob.

The Statue of Liberty. They had arrived in the promised land. And she was alive.

Others began to murmur, pointing at the sight. Anna couldn’t take her eyes from it as the stars overhead threw it into sharper focus. The rain fell harder, staining the statue’s cold stone cheeks.

On this dark night, Lady Liberty wept with her.


	14. Epilogue: Adjusted Sails

_ 14\. Epilogue: Adjusted Sails _

_Sunday 13th April, 1913, 05:30_

It was here. The day she had been dreading.

The anniversary.

Anna awoke alone in an empty room, the quilt tangled around her like a lover’s body. As soon as her brain caught up with her conscious state, she froze, half paralysed by fear, half paralysed by despair. A year ago, she had woken in a narrow bunk, never suspecting that her life would have changed beyond recognition in less than twenty hours’ time. She had been so excited and disorientated at the thought of meeting up with Mr. Bates again.

And then her life, like so many of those around her, had started to turn to ash.

Anna kicked off the covers, tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She glanced at the clock. Somehow, she had overlaid. She would need to hurry before Mrs. Hughes started to worry.

Thankfully, she made it to breakfast in time, slipping silently into her usual seat. A few of the maids stared at her, but she kept her gaze down, avoiding everyone’s eyes. The whole of the table was subdued. Even the clatter and bangs coming from the kitchen were muted. The sinking of the _Titanic_ hadn’t just affected the members of the family. The staff had lost one of their own that day too. No matter how unpopular Thomas had been, they had all been horrified to learn of how he’d frozen to death in the sea among the mass of other people. For a long time after, his seat had remained open, as though Thomas’ ghost had still haunted it. Miss O’Brien, isolated by the loss of her friend, had become even darker tempered. For the most part she was subdued and kept herself to herself, but everyone knew to be wary of her when she cast one of her poisoned looks someone’s way.

Today, the dead would rule the house.

Under the clatter of the cutlery against the bowls, Mrs. Hughes said, “Are you all right, my dear?”

Anna forced a smile, even as her voice wavered. “I’m fine, Mrs. Hughes. Honestly. I was one of the lucky ones.”

The housekeeper eyed her critically. “Even so, you went through a terrible ordeal. You’re allowed to show your feelings.”

But she shook her head. If she started crying now, she would never get herself back under control.

She dressed Lady Mary in silence. Thankfully, the young woman was as preoccupied as she was. Lady Edith and Lady Sybil were just as quiet. She had been worried that Lady Sybil’s kind nature would prompt her to offer her friendship on such a hard day.

The church service was what she’d been dreading the most. It was bound to call for a mark of respect for the deceased heir to the Grantham estate and his son, and she would be forced to remember the panic of not being able to find Mr. Bates in the water, the terror of realising that he was ailing.

The pain of losing him.

The tears burned behind her eyes again, and she bowed her head to hide them from view.

Somehow, she made it through the service, focusing on her clasped hands in her lap to block out the drone of Reverend Travis. When he began to speak of the tragedy that had taken place at sea, she squeezed her eyes tightly closed. She wished he was here with her now.

She stumbled out of the church when the service was over, moving towards the mass of graves. She knew she wouldn’t be able to linger for long—as Mr. Carson had once said, life went on—but she needed a few moments before the bustle of the house swallowed her up once more. Mrs. Hughes would ensure that she wasn’t approached or disturbed. For ten minutes, she could dwell alone.

Almost alone.

She heard the footsteps approaching, squelching in the muddy ground, then felt the delicate touch low over her back.

“Anna? Are you all right?”

She turned and threw herself into the arms that opened automatically.

“Anna, darling, what’s wrong?”

She hated herself for being unable to stop herself from sobbing into the firm chest, pressing her forehead tight to him. A myriad of emotions rose up within her. He shouldn’t have been here. She didn’t want him to see her so weak, not when she had always been so strong. But thank God he _was_ there. She couldn’t do this alone. Not today. There were too many memories. The arms tightened around her, and she mirrored those actions, not caring if it was uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” she choked.

Lips ghosted her hairline. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Can you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“It’s today.”

“I know, it’s stressful. You went through a lot.”

“I almost lost you,” she whispered.

“But you didn’t,” John murmured. “I’m right here beside you, and I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you,” she said, muffling her words against his coat.

“I know. I love you too. Take as much time as you need.”

She settled in his embrace then, laying her ear over his heart and counting the beats, willing herself to calm. She was being silly. She _hadn’t_ lost him, despite those claustrophobic thoughts as she’d watched the Statue of Liberty draw ever closer. Somehow, he’d pulled through, and here they were together. Compared with other people, whose lives had been devastated beyond repair, she still had her whole world intact. She still had everything she had desired so desperately on the cold deck of the _Titanic_, mere minutes before the ship had hit the iceberg. Perhaps it was in a different context and it wasn’t how she had initially envisaged it, but they were still here. Lord Grantham had lost a dynasty. Hundreds more had lost their entire families to the icy depths of the sea. She had no right to wallow in such a way.

“Anna, Mr. Bates? Are you all right?”

The sound of Mrs. Hughes’ voice broke them apart, and they turned to find her staring past them, evidently giving them the opportunity to put a respectable amount of distance between them. If she found it strange to see him there, then she did not voice it.

“We’re all right,” John confirmed.

“”It’s me, Mrs. Hughes. I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.”

“You went through a traumatic time, my girl. It’s natural. Just…try not to worry too much. It’s not good for you.”

“I know. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Anna turned to glance at John, who encouraged her with a soft smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. Mr. Bates here is doing the job admirably.”

Mrs. Hughes’ eyes twinkled. “I expect nothing less, Mr. Bates. Now, the others have already set off back. I think we should go too.”

He shuffled boyishly, pink cheeked, and Anna giggled tremulously, slipping her arm into his. Along with the housekeeper, they turned in the direction of home.

\-- --

_Monday 20th May, 1912_

_They arrived back in Downton a month later to chaos. Lady Edith and Lady Sybil threw themselves into their parents’ arms without a second thought for propriety. Even the Dowager Countess was less acerbic than usual, patting each of the returning house members on the back affectionately. Ashen faced and looking ten years older, Lord Grantham was still recovering from his bout of hypothermia. The warmth of America had done wonders for him, but both he and Lady Grantham had been anxious to return to their girls as soon as they could. The lengthy journey home had tired him, however, and he was bundled into bed as soon as he had hugged his younger daughters fiercely. There were tears of sorrow for those who had been lost, the bodies of Mr. Patrick and Mr. Crawley who had still not been recovered from the sea._

_Downstairs, there was shock at the loss of Thomas. He had never been a well-liked member of the house, but in many ways he was an irreplaceable part of the family. Now a gaping hole remained. The servants’ hall would never reek of smoke the way it had done before. No one would read excerpts from the paper aloud for discussion._

_Anna and Miss O’Brien had been welcomed back amid tears. Mrs. Hughes had held Anna tightly, almost as if she couldn’t believe that she was really there. Gwen had soaked the shoulder of her dress in tears and had refused to leave her alone all day, a fact that Anna had both been exasperated by and grateful for at the same time._

_Mr. Bates caused the biggest stir, a stranger in their midst. At his lordship’s insistence, he had come to Downton to recuperate, where he had been assured the best care by both the doctor and the servants. Anna had immediately offered to play nurse, not caring how it might sound to the others. The younger members were curious about the unorthodox arrangements of the earl himself who had issued the orders, and Mr. Bates became some kind of saint as the news of his heroism spread. He had saved his lordship’s life twice now. Later, when he was well enough to mingle with the others, he was quick to point out that Lord Grantham had saved him too, as had Thomas._

_After he had settled in properly, Anna poked her head around the door. Mr. Bates was propped up in bed, a book abandoned on his lap. He struggled into a more upright position when he saw her._

_“Anna,” he hissed, “what are you doing here?”_

_It was the first time they had been alone together since that awful night. In America, Mrs. Levinson had provided the best doctors going, and they had been a constant presence in the house. She had had snatched moments with him, of course, but she’d still had her duties to Lady Mary, and a nurse was constantly on hand to help while Mr. Bates recovered his strength. It had been a slow process, but he had rallied enough to travel with them, and there hadn’t been a right time to have an intimate conversation._

_ Anna felt tears prickling behind her eyelids even as she offered him the best smile she could. “Don’t worry. Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson know. They think you’re still too weak to try anything wicked with me.”_

_He grimaced as she crossed the room, dragging the chair from the corner to his bedside. “Well, they’re not wrong there.”_

_She reached out to brush hair from his forehead, swiping her thumb tenderly over his brow. “How are you feeling? Really?”_

_“Terrible,” he admitted. “My knee is throbbing like the devil and I can’t shake this feeling of sickness.”_

_“It’s the anxiety,” she soothed him. Every single one of them had been terrified of setting foot on another ship with those horrifying memories still so fresh in their minds, but there had been no other choice. The feeling had persisted throughout the whole journey, and Anna had barely left the deck, clinging to the railing as she frantically looked about her for any iceberg which might spring upon them unsuspectingly._

_“But at least I’m here,” Mr. Bates offered quietly._

_“Thank God,” she said, reaching for the pitcher of water that had been left and pouring a glass. She held it to his lips and helped him to drink, even though he wasn’t helpless to do it himself. It was the first time she’d been able to touch him in a more intimate manner, her fingertips grazing the thick nape of his neck._

_Silence fell. For a few moments they simply stared at each other, drinking in the sight of the dark circles and the lines of worry reflected on their faces. At last Mr. Bates offered her a sardonic grin, moving a shaking hand to cup her cheek._

_“This hasn’t turned out the way we planned, has it?” he said weakly._

_She couldn’t help it. She laughed._

_“It certainly hasn’t,” she agreed. “Even in my worst case scenarios, I never imagined the unsinkable ship sinking.”_

_They both sobered for a moment before Mr. Bates cleared his throat and asked the question that had evidently been on his mind for some time. _

_“So, what does this mean for us?”_

_“What?”_

_He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, dark eyes clouded with sickness and concern. “Once I feel better,_

_I’ll be moving back down to London, at least for the time being. I won’t be buying another ticket to America.”_

_“I won’t blame you for that. I never want to see the ocean again.”_

_“But you’re home now,” he continued. “And I won’t ruin your future.”_

_“I thought I’d already made it clear that I want my future to be with you. Now more than ever. I meant what I said to you.”_

_It was the first time that she had alluded to the words that she had let slip in a moment of desperation. She had been too afraid to whisper them to him again, afraid that he wouldn’t remember, afraid that he would and it was too much too soon, afraid that she would jinx it all._

_Mr. Bates’ eyes had gone soft with yearning._

_“And I want that too. But none of this changes the facts. I am a married cripple. I need to find work, if that’s even an option. We’d still need to move far away, where no one knows us.”_

_“I was prepared to move to America. Somewhere in England will be no real stretch.” She brought his knuckles to her mouth, kissed each individual one, cracked and made angry by the salt water._

_He frowned at her._

_“Tell you what,” she said, “how about we compromise?”_

_“How do you mean?”_

_“Concentrate on getting yourself fit again. When you are, go back to London to see your mother. We’ll sort out a plan between us. I’ll write to you all the time. When we’re ready, I’ll tell everyone that I’ve met someone and I’m moving away. We’ll start again somewhere else.”_

_“And what of everyone else?” he said softly. “Won’t they know exactly what you’ve done?”_

_“How would they know? None of them were there. Miss O’Brien may try to plant seeds of doubt, but none of them will truly know.”_

_“Lady Mary does.”_

_And there it was, right on the proverbial table in front of them. That painful night dangling over their heads once more._

_“Lady Mary was there when you…when you told me you loved me,” Mr. Bates continued quietly. She wished she could read the tone of his voice. “If I leave and you follow, she’ll know.”_

_“You think I care about my reputation?” said Anna. “Let them know. Let the whole world know. As long as you and I are together at the end of the day, I couldn’t care less.”_

_“I can’t bear to be the ruin of your reputation.”_

_“Being without you would be the ruin of me. And you were willing to ruin my reputation before.”_

_“That was different. We weren’t going to be in this country.”_

_“So we’ll go to Scotland. Or Wales. Or Ireland. Or maybe not Ireland, since then we’d have to cross the sea. Either way, we’ll fade into anonymity and be no different to any other married couple. You promised me you wouldn’t go back. You can’t change your mind now. Not after everything.”_

_Not after the way that her heart had splintered on deck, the jagged shards slicing through her chest. Not after the way that Lady Mary had found her sobbing as she watched the ship dock in a cloud of almost drunken numbness to tell her that he wasn’t dead, **he wasn’t dead**…_

_“You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” he chuckled hoarsely._

_“I’ve thought of nothing else,” she whispered. She looked into his face. There were those deep crinkles around his eyes that she loved so much. His eyes were soft as buttermilk, shining with wonder and adoration despite his tiredness. It gave her courage. It was time. She took a deep breath, twisting her hands together as she said, “I meant what I said on that ship, John Bates. I love you.”_

_He was silent for a heartbeat. Her skin prickled with the shame of the gentle rebuttal she was sure was going to follow._

_And then he beamed at her._

_“It’s a good job you do,” he replied. “Because I love you too, Anna Smith. I cannot possibly tell you how much.”_

_It was better than any dream she had ever had as a girl, of a faceless shadow declaring his heart as hers. Mr. Bates was far from faceless. His was alive with expression, his eyes dark and earnest, relief in every beautiful line, the wrinkles by his eyes deepening as he smiled. He was so beautiful. Nothing in the world could have stopped her from leaning in to kiss him. In the next moment their mouths were pressed together, his fingers wound in the little strands of hair that had fallen loose, hers weaved through the bristly hair at the nape of his neck. Surprisingly—and thankfully—he was the one to take the lead, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lip. She parted hers with a little hum, and he needed no more encouragement to slip his tongue inside._

_The first shy contact between them sent a bolt of electricity charging through her body, and she clamoured as close as she could, tears threatening. She had him. He was there with her._

_She vowed she’d never let him go again._

_When they parted, Mr. Bates leaned his forehead against hers._

_“How was that?” he murmured tenderly._

_She giggled through a sniff, pecking at his lips again with a sudden shyness. “Well, it wasn’t New York.”_

_He coloured slightly as his promise came back to him, and she smoothed her thumbs over his wide cheekbones._

_“It was so much better,” she whispered, and he kissed her again before she would be missed by the others._

\-- --

_14:35_

The mood in the house was heavy, pressing the air from her lungs even as she reminded herself that they were still alive and whole. More whole than she would have ever dared to believe. Her afternoon duties were lighter, and she whiled away her time in the servants’ hall, mending one of Lady Mary’s dresses. The eldest daughter of the house was somewhere out on the estate, reluctantly taking Mr. Matthew, the new heir to the Crawley legacy, out to inspect the grounds. She often and loudly proclaimed her dislike of the man who was stealing away her fortune, though Anna suspected that on some level it was more for show than truth. She herself found him to be very pleasant, more forward thinking than most of the family and servants were accustomed to, but not arrogant with it.

A familiar half-step interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced up to find John entering the room.

“Mending?” she asked, nodding at the jacket slung over his arm.

“Pretending to, anyway,” he said, his eyes crinkling as he took his place beside her. “Mostly I wanted to see you.”

“Me?”

“Of course you,” he chuckled, risking taking her hand.

She linked their fingers together. “Is this about earlier? You don’t need to worry, I promise.”

“It’s my job to worry,” he said. “You can complain about it all you like, it won’t change me. I should have been back yesterday, but there were delays.”

“I wouldn’t change you for the world. Even then, I wasn’t expecting you to travel back to be with me today when you weren’t due back until tomorrow.”

“His lordship felt as if he should be here for the service today, and I wasn’t going to object. But since the train was cancelled we ended up spending the night in a hotel on the road. I wasn’t sure we would make it back this morning, but his lordship is a determined man when he wants to be.”

“I can’t deny that I’m glad you’re back.” Anna would be lying to herself if she said that she hadn’t been feeling more and more anxious about John’s week away in London at such a crucial time. She’d lain awake many nights in a cold sweat, frightened that on this anniversary something else would happen to take him away from her. “But I hate that I’ve made you fret. I don’t know what was wrong with me earlier.”

“You’re allowed to feel out of sorts,” he said.

“What right do I have?” she returned. “You were the one who had the more horrifying time.”

“I’m choosing to focus on the positives,” he said. “I survived, and we’re together. I’ve spent too much of my life wallowing. You taught me to think on the good things.”

“Maybe I should take my own advice,” she quipped.

“You’re perfect the way you are,” he growled. He was about to lean in for a kiss, but the click of heels out in the corridor alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone, so he swiped his thumb over her knuckles instead, leaving her skin tingling. As Miss O’Brien appeared in the doorway, John pushed himself to his feet.

“Well,” he said, “best get these to the dressing room. I’ll see you later, Anna.”

“Mr. Bates,” she returned with a duck of her head, smirking a little at the formality. Miss O’Brien shot him an icy glare—she had never taken to him, not even with the knowledge that he had saved his lordship’s life—but John deflected it with a cordial smile of his own, pretending not to notice. Anna watched the strong breadth of his back, still capable despite the added slowness that the journey on the _Titanic_ had inflicted. In the water, his knee had stiffened horribly, the cold attacking the weakened joint. He had feebly joked that she had saddled herself with an old, lame fool, but she reiterated time and time again that it did not matter one whit to her; she loved him however, whatever, whenever.

Now, she offered thanks to God once more for the way that things had turned out.

\-- --

_Thursday 5th September, 1912_

_The news that changed their lives forever came almost three months after his official appointment of valet to the Earl of Grantham._

_By this time, she and Mr. Bates—John, she continually reminded herself—had settled into a routine. They had agreed that for now their understanding would remain a secret, that the knowledge that they had feelings for each other would only add unwanted pressures. To all, they were outward friends, bound together by the tribulation they had experienced together, finding solace in each other with the horrifying memories they shared. Daisy still brought up how she had nightmares about the people freezing to death in the midnight icy waters, much to the rest of the household’s chagrin, and Gwen sometimes hinted that she was there should Anna ever want to talk about the ordeal, but the rest of the servants had slowly but surely allowed it to fade into the past. There had been some initial murmurings when Miss O’Brien had nastily spread the vulgar story that they had met each other several times in the short few days of the maiden voyage, but those had been diffused by Mr. Bates’ polite and cordial exterior. They did not see the passion in his eyes, the intimacy of his touch beneath the table._

_Whenever they could sneak off together they did, hiding out of sight to exchange kisses and promises of what they would have in time. Until he could find something else, Mr. Bates was happy to take on his duties, putting his money aside for the future. Anna was content to wait. She had him by her side. She did her own saving. There was no need to hurry love._

_But then the telegram arrived, followed closely by the letter. Mr. Bates asked to be excused to read them in private, so rare the occurrence was. Mr. Carson nodded his assent, and he left the room, leaving Anna burning with curiosity. When she saw him again, he looked odd, and rather grey._

_“Mr. Bates,” she asked him urgently, “what’s wrong?”_

_“Later,” he murmured. “Meet me in the courtyard.”_

_Worry ate away at her for the rest of the day. He was preoccupied at dinner, barely speaking two words, his eyes distant. She wondered what news could have prompted him to withdraw in such a way._

_Dinner couldn’t end quickly enough. In the gap before dressing the three girls for bed, she stepped outside and waited for him to join her. He appeared only minutes later, pale and grim. He did not sit beside her, but remained standing rigidly._

_“Can you tell me what’s bothering you now?” she asked, disconcerted by his maintained distance._

_Wordlessly, he reached into his pocket and brought out an envelope. She took it in trembling hands. She started with the telegram._

_RECEIVED NEWS THAT YOU SHOULD KNOW STOP SENT IT ON STOP DON’T BLAME YOURSELF JOHNNY STOP._

_Anna’s sense of disquiet only grew. What could possibly have happened to make him blame himself? She glanced up at him, but he was staring ahead, clearly waiting for her to finish before he said anything. With hands that shook more acutely, she turned back to the second set of papers._

_What she read stopped her heart. For a moment, she was caught between emotions. A thin line of relief for herself snaked through the pang of shock. And there was disgust too. She wasn’t the kind of person who rejoiced in the terrible fortunes of someone else. That had been Thomas and Miss O’Brien’s job._

_At the thought of Thomas, she shoved the paper back into the envelope._

_“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”_

_“I had no idea,” Mr. Bates said slowly. “None at all.” His voice wavered. A lone tear slipped down his cheek._

_It was the thing to break her paralysis, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. He turned into the crook of her neck, his breathing heavy. She felt dampness against her and squeezed him tighter, pressing a kiss to his hair. Her heart broke to see him hurting, even if it was for another woman. A small part of her wondered if he still had feelings for his wife deep down, past all the bitterness and the hurt. He’d married her, after all, had shared his life with her. Had gone to prison for her. Was mourning her now._

_After several minutes, Mr. Bates pulled away from her._

_“I’m sorry,” he muttered._

_“None of that,” she said, reaching into her pocket for her handkerchief and passing it to him. She looked away for a few minutes, pretending to be interested in re-reading the letter while he composed himself. When he was finished he managed a watery smile._

_“It’s just a shock,” he explained. “I never considered that she might decide to travel to America.”_

_“The letter said she was travelling with a Mr. Bradley,” Anna ventured._

_“He was probably her new man.” Mr. Bates’ lips twisted. “She never had any qualms about doing what she wanted, damn society.”_

_It was bizarre to think about. They could have been living in the same country, in the same city. All of them leading double lives._

_“And there’s no uncertainty? It really was her?”_

_“It was her,” said Mr. Bates heavily, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Like my mother says, they identified her through a letter. It must have been one of the ones that I sent her from Africa. God knows why she was taking it with her. It’s taken this long because the water had almost destroyed it, but they could piece enough of it together to give a positive identification. The authorities had no idea where I was so they contacted my mother instead.”_

_“Perhaps it’s a good thing she was carrying the letter,” said Anna. “Perhaps it means that she forgave you for the past.”_

_“I don’t know what it means. God, I can’t think about it.”_

_“I’m sorry that she’s gone,” she said softly. “She was your wife.”_

_“I haven’t loved her in a long time now,” he told her. “I wonder if I ever loved her at all. But I did care about her at the beginning, and no matter how our relationship fell apart, I wouldn’t wish that kind of experience on anyone. Christ.”_

_Cautiously, Anna slipped her hand into his, relaxing just slightly when he linked their fingers together. He knew partially just what that was like. Thrashing in the icy waters, growing weaker by the second, knowing that death was approaching and being unable to do anything about it. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone either, not even her worst enemy. She could understand why Mr. Bates was feeling the way that he was. To her, Vera was a faceless woman. To him, she was a real person. He’d kissed her, held her hand, laughed with her, fought with her, shared his body with her. They were not comfortable thoughts, but they were reality. He needed time to grieve in a place where she couldn’t follow him. So she coaxed him to the crates and sat quietly by his side, keeping her hand in his, giving him the time he needed to come to terms with his wife’s fate._

_He came to her two weeks later, after a period of withdrawal. She hadn’t wanted to seem overbearing or unsympathetic, so she had kept away too, even though it had hurt to do so, reassuring him through smiles, letting him know that she would be there for him when he was ready to let her in._

_He’d been allowed a few days down in London, having told Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes that he had received bad news from home, and now he was back. There was something different about him. Some of the invisible weight bowing his back had been lifted. He looked light, almost. Standing in his presence, Anna felt shy, unsure of how to greet him. He made the decision for her, pulling her into his arms for a fierce embrace._

_“I’ve missed you,” he said, muffling the words against her hair._

_She hugged his middle tentatively. “I missed you too. I’m glad you’re home.”_

_“I enjoyed seeing my mother again,” he said. “But I thought about you every day. What you were doing, if you were happy. I’m sorry I pushed you away.”_

_“I understand,” she said softly. “I’m not angry. I’m just glad you’re back.”_

_He seemed to know she was meaning more than just physically. “I’m not going anywhere else, I promise. In fact, I’m glad I’ve got you alone. I need to talk to you.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Yes. Have you got to rush back?”_

_She shook her head. “I’ve got a little mending to do, but I can catch up after dinner. What’s the matter?”_

_“Walk with me,” he requested. “We won’t go far, just to the flower gardens.”_

_“All right.” Anna took his hand when he offered it to her, and they walked in silence towards the gardens. They were out of the way enough for them not to be disturbed, close enough to the house should they need to hurry back._

_Mr. Bates stopped them just inside the rose garden. He took a deep breath. Anna’s insides fluttered nervously._

_“What is it?” she prompted him._

_He offered her a small smile. “As you know, I went to London to sort out…to sort out things regarding Vera.”_

_“Yes, I know.”_

_“I told my mother about us while I was there.”_

_“What?” Now that was something she hadn’t been expecting. “What did she say?”_

_“She was surprised that I admitted it,” he chuckled. “She said she knew as soon as I walked in that something had happened. ‘Johnny,’ she said, ‘you’re smilin’ that smile that means you’ve been up to no good.’.”_

_Anna laughed at his imitation, but there was a bite of nervousness underneath. “That doesn’t tell me how she reacted.”_

_“Are you worried?” he teased._

_“Wouldn’t you be if my parents were still alive?”_

_“That’s different. I know I’m not worthy of you.”_

_“How am I to know that your mother would think me good enough for you? You said she never approved of Vera.”_

_He smoothed his thumb against the back of her hand. “Relax. She wasn’t averse to the idea at all. And even though I went down there because of Vera, she could see that you make me happy. And you do. You make me so happy, Anna.”_

_“But what if she thinks I’m too young for you, or only after you because of the possibility of getting out of service? Did you tell her how we met?”_

_“She’s not like that, truly. She doesn’t judge. And she can hardly think that you’re trying for a better life when you’ve set your sights on a cripple.”_

_“Don’t talk about yourself that way,” she scolded. “There’s no shame in saving someone’s life. Without you, the girls wouldn’t have had their father growing up. No one should ever look down on you for circumstances they don’t understand.”_

_“What did I do to deserve you, Anna May Smith?” he murmured._

_“You were just yourself. You didn’t need anything else.”_

_He leaned down to kiss her softly. Shivers spread from her stomach. He hadn’t kissed her since he had found out about Vera. It had to be a good sign._

_“Anyway,” he continued when he pulled away, squeezing her hand lightly, “I told her everything. How you make me feel, how everything you do makes me smile. How you’re the first thing on my mind in a morning, the last at night. I told her that I was afraid that I wasn’t meant for happiness, that you would see sense and move on.”_

_“Never,” she protested._

_“The details don’t matter, anyway,” he said quickly. “What matters is what my mother said to me.”_

_“What did she say?”_

_He flashed her a cryptic grin. “She said that it was obvious that I loved you, that you’d been having a good influence on me. That I didn’t seem as dark and mournful as usual. And she told me to do one more thing.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Yes.” The grin was even more secret. She revelled in it even as she burned with curiosity._

_“Well, are you going to tell me or not?”_

_He dropped her hand. The unexpected movement was assuaged by the soft look on his face. He dipped his left hand into his pocket, taking a deep breath. His grip on his cane tightened…_

_…And, stiltedly, he began to lower himself to the floor._

_Anna clapped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from crying out._

_Mr. Bates turned his face upwards towards her, his cheeks bright red. She suspected it was from the less than graceful descent more than from the intensity of the moment. She had never seen a more beautiful sight._

_“I don’t know what to say,” she gasped._

_“Say you’ll marry me,” he said quietly. “Anna May Smith, you’ve changed my life completely since you quite literally ran into me those few months ago. People are likely to think us foolish, but I am foolish enough to believe that fate brought us together for a reason. Anna, will you marry me?”_

_She lowered her shaking hands, managing an exhilarated squeal. “Yes, John Bates! Yes!”_

_His face split into a wide grin, and he almost lost his precarious balance as she flung herself at him, sinking to the floor beside him, seeking out his mouth. His laughter ceased quickly enough then._

_When she pulled away from him, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t know how long it will take to set a date in the church. We might have to wait a while. I’m sorry.”_

_She shook her head, unable to resist kissing him again. “I’d rather have the right man than the right wedding. You’re the right man, Mr. Bates.”_

_“I hope you’ll start calling me John now,” he said with a shy smile._

_“I might, if you set a date as quick as you can,” she retorted teasingly. “Not the church. The registrar. I think it’s about time we seized the moment. Take out a special licence. Go to Ripon. Please.”_

_“As soon as possible,” he promised her._

_Slowly, they struggled back to their feet. Mr. Bates—John—took hold of her hand and slipped the ring over her finger. Anna took her first opportunity to look at it properly, rubbing her thumb against the new weight. The band was a slim gold, daintily holding an emerald and two tiny diamonds. It was delicate and understated. Beautiful. Even seeing the solid evidence of what she had just witnessed, she was finding it difficult to believe. In her mind, she had contented herself with a life of sin, with or without God’s understanding. In the last couple of weeks, with his withdrawal, she had had the tiny, needling worries that they wouldn’t even manage that._

_But here it was. Marriage. Taking his name. Their love being validated in the eyes of everyone._

_“I think we have some news for everyone when we get back,” she said._

\-- --

_23:30_

Anna knew what was about to happen as soon as the door clicked closed behind them. She had felt his gaze on her all day, the weight of it settling over her skin and making it hum with need. The smoke in his eyes, invisible to all but her. The possessive touch of his fingers to her wrist below the line of the dinner table. The way that he had kissed her just outside the walls of the abbey, hidden in the shadows.

No words were needed as they stripped off their outer layers in the hall. John didn’t ask her if he should get the fire going. She didn’t ask him if he wanted a cup of tea. Their hands found each other in the darkness. She cast him a look, then pulled him up the staircase with her, two ships moored together in the tumultuous waves. He followed close behind, the sound of his increasingly heavy breathing the only sound to break the bubble of silence ensconcing them.

Only when they reached their bedroom did she turn towards him, releasing his hand so that she could find the buttons on his waistcoat in the darkness. He touched her hair, winding his fingers into it as best he could while it was still pinned rigidly in place. She gave a little mewl, pushing closer. His other hand slid down to cradle her hip, fingertips massaging.

“Anna,” he breathed.

But she didn’t want his words, not right at that moment. Stretching up on her tiptoes, she blindly sought out his mouth, taking away anything else that he might have wanted to voice. The touch on her hip became more concrete, and she fell towards him. She felt him against her stomach, and pushed desperately at his waistcoat. He pulled away long enough to shrug it off, then pulled at his braces. They worked in tandem with the buttons on his shirt. Anna tugged it free of his trousers, letting it fall unceremoniously. Almost uncovered to her now. Her fingers worked faster. She needed to feel him—

Her fingers came into contact with the warm nakedness of his torso, and her breath caught. There he was. Whole. Hers. She tried to step even closer, but his hands caught her elbows, keeping her at bay.

“Now you,” he whispered, and she understood. He needed to feel her too. Together they worked in the same sacred silence, led by instinct alone. When she shed the last layer covering her upper body, his strong arms came around her, anchoring at the low of her back. Her own linked around his neck as she moulded herself to his front, head turned to the side.

She listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat below her ear, slightly faster with her close proximity. Closing her eyes, she felt the tension leech out of her body for the first time all day. This was what was real. The here and now. Holding him in her arms. Being held in his. His chest hair tickling. Her breasts pressed low on his chest. Two parts of the same whole.

At length, kisses rained down onto the crown of her head. She lifted her face to his, their mouths meshing. His hands slid up her bare back, grazed her neck, disappeared into her hair in search of the elusive pins. She clung on more tightly, kissed him more fiercely. Slowly, he began to guide them backwards, careful to manoeuvre round their discarded clothes, finding their bed. She folded onto it and he followed, leaning against it for support while he continued to kiss her and seek out the remainder of the pins. Tendrils of hair began to fall around her, caressing her shoulders. John left her lips to kiss at her cheeks, her jaw, that spot just below her ear. She wriggled and let out a moan, eyes fluttering closed.

“I love you,” he muttered, touching his tongue to her earlobe.

She ran her hands over his broad shoulders, tilting her head to the side to grant him better access. “I love you too.”

He pulled away from her then, but before she could protest he laid another swift kiss upon her, his fingers sliding down to toy with the waistband of her undergarments. She understood then, lifted herself up off the bed while he eased them down, exposing all of her to the room. She shuffled to the head of the bed as John lowered his trousers, the material whispering against his skin as he pulled them off. In the next moment he was beside her, one hand on her belly, the other moving to cradle the side of her face. She slid in closer, arms around his back, one leg worming between his. He was everywhere along her skin. The feeling was electrifying.

They spent several minutes kissing, allowing the heat to rise and settle over them, tasting and savouring each other. But the pace was too slow. Anna wanted more. She couldn’t go slow. Not tonight.

“Please,” she demanded. “Please, please.” Over and over again until he slipped a hand between her thighs, ran his mouth down her body until he found a breast. Then her world narrowed to the size of their bed, the ecstasy that he stoked within her. She moved with him, crying out when his tongue teased the bud of her nipple into a taut peak, his fingers caressed some hidden spot within her. She pressed into him, fingernails digging deep, the air rife with her whimpers and the sensuous sound of his voice in between his ministrations. The end took her with a fierce rush, and she wilted like a flower deprived of water for so long. John was gentle in the aftermath, his fingers stilling, shifting back up to press kisses against her cheek while she got her breathing back under control.

“Are you all right?” he murmured, pushing some errant hair away from her sweaty temple.

She nodded, nestling closer. She could feel his desire, trapped between their bodies. It ignited her own ardour once more. Rolling onto her back, she pulled on his hand insistently.

_“Now,”_ she begged.

“Are you sure?” he asked, even as she heard the eager desire in his voice. “Don’t you need a few more minutes? What about—”

“Now,” she repeated, and he rose up above her. She widened her thighs to accommodate his body, sucking in a breath at the promise of his delicious weight. He was careful to keep on his forearms, his body elevated from hers despite her protests, hooking her mouth in another kiss. Her palm passed over his chest, teasing at the chest hair she found, and was rewarded with a low grunt of need. It broke something within her. This was her man. The man she had almost lost a year ago. What if she had never known the touch of his hand in hers, the pressure of his lips, the sweet, sweet pleasure that he evoked within her? What if the life that she had now had never happened?

They were horrific thoughts that brought tears rushing to her eyes even as he shifted his hips—fingers testing her readiness quickly—and sank into her. Filling her deliciously.

“Oh, my darling,” he breathed. For long moments, there was nothing else, just the loud whoosh of blood in her head, John propped up on quivering forearms, slick locks of hair falling forward over his forehead, the darkness cloaking them, blinding them.

“More,” she commanded in a strangled whisper. “I need to feel you.”

“As you wish,” he said lowly, and finally began to move.

She threw her head back, gasping loudly in the quiet, gripping at the bed sheets, hooking her heels under the curve of his backside, helping to control the pace of his movements. For long minutes she was aware of nothing else. Just him. The musky smell of his skin. The harsh sound of his breath. The roughness of his chest, the strength in his muscles. His mouth, all over her face. The promise of his love reverberating in her ears.

Her palm found his chest, pushing.

“Please,” she begged incoherently, not even sure if he would understand what she wanted.

But he did. One strong arm slipped around her, pulling her closer. He manoeuvred himself onto his back without breaking contact between them, settling himself down into the bed sheets. Now she was above him. In charge. Powerful.

She bent in to kiss him, her body finding a rhythm all of its own. His moan was low and guttural, his fingers sinking into her hips as he guided her. He was real. He was there. Solid beneath her thighs. She squeezed them together, relished the sound that he made. Her fingers mapped his features, brushing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, tracing his jaw, feathering over his lips. He caught her index finger between his teeth, drew it into his mouth, suckled. It felt heavenly. Whimpering, she bore down on him harder, sweat beading on her forehead as she guided them both towards the end. One of John’s hands let go of its anchor on her hip to snake between them, rubbing her over and over until she felt the sweet wave overtake her. She juddered and cried out in his arms. He held her firm, thrust up twice more, and followed her down.

\-- --

_Friday 20th September, 1912_

_They married mere weeks later, having secured the first date at the registrar possible. Their announcement had shocked almost everyone. Mr. Carson was the most flustered about the idea of having married servants in the house. Miss O’Brien had a few scathing remarks to make, hinting at Anna’s virtue, but Anna couldn’t bring herself to care. After all, she had been planning worse._

_Only Mrs. Hughes did not seem surprised by the announcement. She had been in charge of the girls for many years and had seen infatuations in all shapes and forms. She had spied the signs early in Anna, and although she had been watchful, she had not witnessed anything untoward that would give her cause for concern. Anna had dropped her gaze guiltily at that—if only she’d known the truth._

_The wedding was a small affair in Ripon’s registrar office. The fact had been surprising to many, but Anna had quickly declared that she liked the idea of the informality of a registrar wedding more than the pressures that came with the church. All of the servants were invited and most attended—even Miss O’Brien, though she made it clear that it was only for the time away from the big house. Much to their surprise, Lord Grantham also insisted on being there to witness the marriage of his old comrade and saviour. Lady Mary had tagged along too, as had Lady Sybil, always eager for something new. They had exchanged their vows in front of the entire congregation, lingering sweetly when it came to their first kiss as husband and wife._

_They had a very small reception in the_ Grantham Arms_. Several of the servants had had to slip away at this point so that they could be back for the family. Mrs. Hughes had stayed, as had Gwen and a couple of the other housemaids. Daisy and William had been granted permission to stay a little longer too. John’s mother was the life and soul, thoroughly enjoying her role of the doting mother-in-law and regaling those gathered with tales from her little Johnny’s childhood, much to his horror and embarrassment. Anna grinned so wide that her face hurt, clinging to her husband’s arm tightly. She could barely believe that she had become a Bates, had been welcomed into the family so enthusiastically by John’s mother. They had met prior to the wedding, when Mr. Bates had taken her down to London to introduce them, and Anna’s fears had all been unfounded. Old Mrs. Bates was gracious and fussy, and Mr. Bates told her later that she had taken him aside and said he had better not mess **this** up because he would find no better woman. He happened to agree with his mother._

_And then it was time to leave—first to their newly granted cottage for the night, and then for a long weekend just outside Hornsea—not quite close enough to see the sea. John’s mother was putting up at the pub until they came back and would then move into the cottage for a week so that she could spend some time with them before she travelled back to London._

_“Now, make sure you’re careful with her,” she warned as she saw them off at the door to the pub._

_“Mother!” he said, blushing like a schoolboy._

_“Don’t you play coy with me, Johnny. You’re a big brute, and look at her. She’s a little slip of a thing. Don’t get too rough with her.”_

_Now it was Anna’s turn to blush._

_“And, Anna dear, don’t feel like you need to go through with anything you’re not comfortable with. Men turn into animals when it comes to their baser urges, but give him a good talking to and he’ll back off. Johnny’s got broad shoulders.”_

_“Mother!” he groaned. “Leave it alone. I’ll take care of her, I promise.”_

_“See that you do. She’s a good lass.”_

_Anna smiled despite herself. She had a feeling she would get along with her very well indeed._

_Mrs. Bates reached up to kiss her cheek. “Goodbye, dear. We’ll talk again when you get back.”_

_The words were terrifyingly assured, but Anna soon forgot all about them as John took her in his arms for the very first time in their own home._

_And, true to his word, John was a perfect gentleman, seeing to her every need before thinking of himself._

_Anna found that she had no interest in the sights that the quaint little village in Hornsea had to offer them. Instead they spent their entire time sequestered away in the privacy of their rented rooms. There, she learned that despite his mother’s warnings, there was not one thing that she did not enjoy or want when he began to touch her in that wonderful manner of his. She hadn’t known that such pleasure could exist, that she would find the ultimate solace in those moments when they’d finished making love, John heavy in the ring of her arms, her thighs hugging him close as they kissed each other down from their highs._

_Now she truly was Mrs. Bates in every sense of the word._

\-- --

_Monday 14th April, 1913, 00:00_

They laid tangled together in the aftermath, all sweaty limbs and ragged breath. Anna nuzzled her head into the crook of John’s neck. She had one hand wedged between them, and she idly smoothed her palm over his chest hair as his heart thumped erratically below her. For the first time all day, she felt the tightly coiled tension in her body lessen. She melted into him. He didn’t seem to mind having her full weight against him, holding her close. There was no hurry for them to end their connection.

But it did have to end, and Anna slowly disentangled herself from her husband’s arms, flopping bonelessly onto the mattress beside him. It squeaked as he shifted position, lifting himself up on an elbow so that he could peer into her face in the muted darkness.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing a few strands of hair away from her cheek.

She emitted a little giggle, snuggling back against him. “I should be asking you that.”

“My darling, I will always be fine with you in my arms.”

They fell into a sobering silence for a few moments. Anna traced patterns on his stomach, brow creasing in a little frown.

“I really am sorry,” she said.

“Sorry? What on earth for?”

“For being silly all day. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Not this again. Anna, how many times do I have to repeat myself? You’re allowed to feel any way you want. Besides…” His hand drifted lower to cup her stomach tenderly. “I think this little one might have something to do with it.”

Anna smiled despite herself, snuggling closer. While they hadn’t planned on having a baby quite so soon, wanting a couple of years to themselves before they expanded, they were both overjoyed at the idea of having a family. John frequently asserted that he wanted a girl who was the mirror of her mother. Anna wouldn’t mind a little boy with dark hair, who would grow up burly and strong just like his father. Even this early into the pregnancy, they had narrowed down their choices of names. Samuel, Harry, George, Charles, and Robert for the boys. Samantha, Harriet, Georgiana, Charlotte, and Roberta for the girls. A memorial to the men on the Titanic who had tried so hard to help them, who had bought them their freedom with their own lives. Anna hoped that one day she would have enough children so that she might call one after his father too, a homage to the man who had saved her life first, who had made her see that she did not have to follow the designated path carved out for her.

_“I’m hardly worth that honour,” _John had huffed when she had first raised the hope with him. _“Each and every one of those men were better than I was.” _His eyes had softened. _“But you…you are different. You really did save my life when you ran into me on the deck that first time. I had little money, no prospects, and an overwhelming urge to drink. You made me see that there could be happiness for me, and you **shared** it with me. A daughter with your name…now, that would be a worthy namesake.”_

She knew that either way, they would adore their baby, and any children that might follow in the future.

In some respects, it was fitting that they should be reminded of life when death suffocated them. Doctor Clarkson had told her that soon she would begin to feel funny flutterings, the sign that their baby was wriggling around. It would be a few more weeks after that before John would feel anything, but she was excited to report it all to him. The wriggling would be concrete proof that they had conquered the trials thrown their way, that they could face whatever the rest of the world had in store for them.

Mrs. Hughes was the only other person who knew of the news just yet, at John’s insistence—he didn’t want her working too hard and he’d stated that the housekeeper would make sure she didn’t. Anna had rolled her eyes at that. She wasn’t far enough along for those kinds of worries, and she hated the thought of having idle hands.

_“Cherish the quiet while you still can,”_ Mrs. Hughes had told her. _“You won’t be getting any when your bairn makes its appearance, I can promise you that.”_

Anna couldn’t wait for it.

Exhaling in a little hum, she sleepily turned more firmly into John’s chest, rubbing her cheek against him. He circled her in his arm, pressing his lips against her hair.

“But you are all right now?” he murmured, his own voice thick with drowsiness.

“I am,” she replied. “And are you? Truly?”

He cracked open one eye. “What makes you say that?”

“I know you, John Bates. You put on a brave face for me earlier, but you’ve been smoking like a chimney all day. I can taste it when I kiss you. The mints don’t hide it.”

He had the grace to look sheepish. “I didn’t think you’d notice. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” she said. “I just worry about you too, that’s all.”

John shifted a little, encouraging her to sit up on her forearm. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin as he gazed at her with intensity.

“I’m all right,” he told her solemnly. “Today has been…difficult.” He swallowed hard. “I confess, I have had flashbacks. To what it felt like to be caged below decks like some sewer rat, to say goodbye to you on that deck, to what it felt like to be plunged in that water…”

He took a shaky breath, and Anna shuffled closer, pressing her forehead to his temple, her breath in his ear. He clung to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. They did not move for several minutes.

“You saved me,” he breathed against her skin at last. It wasn’t the first time he had said those words to her.

“You saved yourself,” she argued gently. “You found the strength to reach that whistle. You fought the hypothermia.”

“I only found the strength because you were with me.”

“I _wish_ I could have been there with you, physically. The torture of not knowing…”

He eased her closer, kissing her with such soft tenderness that tears sprang to her eyes. She clung to him, shuddering when his tongue slipped between her parted lips. When he pulled back, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You _were_ with me, through every moment of it,” he said.

And then she realised, a wobbly smile breaking over her face. He was talking about her good luck charm, the little bear that she had imparted on to him after their first meeting. How that had slipped her mind, she couldn’t say, not when he carried it everywhere he went like a talisman. Even during the day up at Downton he kept it buried deep in the pocket of his coat, a comfort never far from him. When their son or daughter was old enough to understand its value he would pass it on to them, pass it down the family line as it had always been intended by her mother. The care that he showed the little battered bear was touching.

“I suppose you’re right,” she whispered.

“There’s no suppose about it,” he replied. “The charm was with me all the way through, and it kept me strong. It was the first thing I was truly aware of when I came round on the rescue ship.”

Anna remembered the way that she had pressed it to his chest in an effort for it to rub off on him. And it had.

“Thank you, Anna May Bates,” he breathed. The words were heavy with the weight of his sincerity as he placed his palm over her stomach and drew her closer to kiss again. The quiet darkness pressed in on them, and now that the worries of the day were receding in the circle of his arms, she had never felt so safe.

A year ago, before she had embarked with the rest of the family to Southampton, if she had been told that her life would change forever then she would not have believed them. She’d always thought that her place would always be at Downton Abbey, that she would grow old in service and die on these very grounds. And yet here she was. Married to the best of men. Pregnant. So in love that at times it simply overwhelmed her. Despite the fact that their beginning had been unconventional and riddled with misunderstanding, Anna would never regret that their fates had met and twined together. And now, as he slipped his hand lower and kissed her breathless, Anna relished the prospect of having him forever.

Forever certainly had a beautiful ring to it.


End file.
